Wounded
by SailorCheesy
Summary: America has been getting wounded a lot lately, and he won't tell Iggy why. Will England ever find out how America keeps getting hurt? I suck at summaries, but my stories are better. Yaoi, if you don't like it don't read it. USUK. I had writers block for a while, so there are filler chapters! I do not own Hetalia! (I'm going back and fixing all of the many errors in this story!)
1. Chapter 1

_December 16, 1773_

_Midnight:_

America places a hat made of feathers on top of his shaggy, sandy blonde hair and reaches to his face, carefully removing his glasses. He dips his fingers into a deep red mixture, then smears it onto his face. He reaches down onto a wooden dresser, staring at the mirror until his hands find smooth beads. He places them around his neck, just as his brother materializes behind him.

"You shouldn't do this." He says. America looks at his brother's reflection in the mirror, rage distorting his features.

"The god damned taxes are way too high, Matt! What do you think I should do?" America yells, throwing his hands up into the air.

Matthew flinches at his brother's loud voice. "I-I don't know. I'm sure England has his reasons. Please, just wait a little while, Al..."

America frowns. "I'm done waiting. My people are sick of it, and so am I. England can't keep controlling me!" His voice softens, "Matt, you know more than anyone that I hoped it would never come to this. I never wanted to hurt you, or England. But that's just the way it is. I need to help my people."

"Your people will get over it. P-please, don't do through with this. It will only cause more trouble."

"These are my people. I want them to be happy and healthy, and nobody can afford anything anymore! People are dying."

"You'll start a war, Alfred!"

"Then a war there will be! And a war I will win! My people will gain their freedom!"

"England raised you! And this is how you decide to thank him?" Canada bellows, tears streaming down his face. Carefully, he moves forward, until he is standing right in front of his brother. "I just... I want everything to be the way it was when were younger..."

"Me too, Mattie."

Alfred reaches over and grabs a lamp and a match, then slides the tip of match over the back of the scratchy paper. He drops the entire match into the lamp, staring as the fire ignites. Canada sighs and walks away from his brother, praying he doesn't get brought into this war.

Alfred's face switches to a determined one as he walks out the door and into the night. The cold wind rushes around him, ruffling the feathers on his head and the fringe on his pants. He finds his group of followers and marches to the boats, a few hundred people trailing behind him.

When they reach the ships, he hears excited whispers and murmurs from every direction, as people climb aboard the ships, being as silent as they can. America smiles. These people are everything he has fought to protect, what he will continue to protect, until his last breath escapes from his lips.

Then, there is cheering and shouts as tea fills the Boston Harbor. He takes a box and lifts the box high above his head. He remember when England used to lift him up on his shoulders, the way the two would laugh, how happy they were...

America hasn't laughed in a long, long time, but he laughs now, shouting that he will gain his independence. And together, he and his people dump all the tea on the British ship into the harbor, laughing and shouting and hugging and dancing and smiling.

_May 19, 1775_

America stands by a small river and bends down, reaching his hands into the water and cupping them underneath the cold, fresh stream. He then brings his shaky hands up to his lips and drinks the water hastily, afraid it will slip through his fingers. Then, the young man sits in the grass next to the stream and stares ahead.

A month ago today, a war was started. A war America nor England wanted to fight, but have begun anyway. How had this happened? How had England, his guardian, his brother, the one person who he'd always trusted to never hurt him, done this? How could England hurt him this way?

Lost in his thoughts, Alfred doesn't notice a dark figure standing over him, gun aimed. Suddenly, someone screams his name and he is disturbed from his thoughts. The young American looks up at the figure holding the gun, his blue eyes widening and then narrowing, scrutinizing. He glares, a fire igniting his blue eyes. He opens his mouth, about to stay something, when someone calls his name again.

England stands over him, an almost sorrowful expression on his face, his gun trained on America's forehead. His mouth curves upward just the slightest bit, and America growls, pushing himself off the ground. England shoves him back onto the ground roughly, pressing the gun into America's hair.

"This is your last chance, Alfred. Come back to me, or pay the price." England threatens, his eyes desperate and full of longing, but his mouth now fully upturned in something like a sadistic smile.

Alfred opens his mouth again, then stops, jerking his head away to stare at the flurry of skirts barreling towards them. A woman is coming straight for England, her curly chocolate-brown hair falling down her back in waves, her hazel eyes fixed on the man in the blue uniform with determination. Her heart swelling and head swimming, only one coherent thought passes through her head. _Protect him... Protect him... Protect him..._

"Stop!" Alfred screams, ready to jump back up, but again, England throws him to the ground, this time pinning the younger's wrists underneath his feet. America growls, struggling, watching as she gets closer.

Then, England swings the gun around, aiming at the woman. A loud BANG resounds through the air, and then Alfred is screaming, shoving England away with a burst of superhuman strength, his arms opening wide, catching her.

"_ABIGAIL!" _He screams, his cries echoing throughout the night. He closes his eyes, clutching her body desperately.

The girl whimpers, feebly wrapping grabbing Alfred's hand in hers. "Alfred... I love... You..." She coughs, her body shaking, "Don't... Let... Go..."

"I love you too, I love you, Abigail. Please, please, don't leave me. Please, Abigail. I love you, I need you! I-I—" Alfred cuts himself off, sobs wracking his slender frame, "I was going to propose..."

Abigail smiles, blood leaking from her stomach, she squeezes America's hand one last time, and then the light leaves her head.

Alfred, still shaking, cradles her close, squeezing her, begging for her to live. A single tear falls from England's eye, and he walks off into the night.

_September 3, 1783_

Alfred stands in front of Arthur, his gun raised, the rain pouring around them, pounding into the ground, making the brown mud fly up and hit their shoes.

"Hey Britain," America yells, "All I want is my freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on, consider me independent!"

England pauses with a stunned face. America clenches his teeth. Then, England surges forward, slamming his gun into America's. The gun goes flying into the air, and drops in the mud near them. England points his gun at America's face, but Alfred doesn't even flinch.

"I won't allow it!" England yells back,"You idiot! Why can't you ever follow anything through to the end?"

America's chief steps forward. "Ready! Aim!" He yells. The blue-coated soldiers aim at England, who now stands alone.

England puts the gun down. "There's no way I can shoot you. I can't." He drops the gun on the ground and falls to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Why? Dammit, why? It's not fair!" He sobs.

America stares at him with sadness. "You know why."

England suddenly recalls a time that seems far away now, when America was young, and they never fought...

_Little America looks up at England. "Let's go home." Arthur says, reaching a hand out, his brown coat flapping in the wind, a smile on his face and the sun shining on his blonde hair. America laughs, taking England's hand in his, they walk back to England's home._

The memory fades away from England as America begins to speak.

"What happened? I remember when you were great..." America says, looking down at England, his once bright blue eyes now a dull, plain blue.

"Fine! Become independent. It's obvious you don't need me anymore. The little boy I once knew is gone." With that, England stands up.

He can no longer stand the sight of the young man in front of him. He turns around, but before he does, he rips a necklace from around his neck. A necklace Alfred had once given to him. He throws it on the ground, sniffling. America gasps and runs forward, snatching it up, brushing away all the mud with his slender fingers. He pushes it into his pocket and walks back to his house.

The burden of being bound to England is gone, and he is free.


	2. Chapter 2

_January 13, 2012._

England walks into the World Meeting room and sits down at the long, wooden table. He smirks. He's the first one there, as always. He walks up to the chalkboard and begins to doodle small bunnies with wings and faeries with long, curly green hair and clothing made of plants, his smirk now a grin. Oh, how cute his fairies were...

The door creaks open, and England jumps, backing away from the chalkboard, mouth open to spout excuses as to why he was drawing such ridiculous(ly amazing) characters. Immediately, he knows something is off. America is silently walking to his chair, flopping down, and closing his eyes, one gloved hand clutching his side.

_It's still an hour until the World Meeting starts, why is America here so early?_ England thinks, walking over to him worriedly.

America's head lolls like he's asleep, but he still holds his side. Suddenly, he's sliding out of his seat, a small groan escaping from his lips. England cries out, throwing his arms out in front of him to catch the American. As the younger lands in his arms, he notices how pale he is.

"America! Are you alright?" Arthur asks, panic already seeping into his voice.

"I-I'm fine." America says, righting himself.

"The meeting isn't for another hour, you git!"

"Oh... Well, I'll just... Sleep... " America mumbles, slumping backwards in his chair.

"Hey! Hey, America! What the hell is going on with you? And why are you holding your side?" England asks, grabbing America's arm.

"I'm fine, England. Just tired..."

"You liar! What the hell is wrong?" England questions, panic evident in his voice.

"Nothing..."

As soon as the words leave his lips, Alfred's entire body is thrown forward in a great fit of coughing. Blood splatters the surface of the wooden table, and England lets out a strangled cry of surprise and... hurt.

"Alfred!" England yells, wiping at his eyes, "What happened?!"

"Ugh..." America sighs, his hand falling away from his side. The British man gasps, staring at the blood seeping through America's shirt and jacket.

"My _god_! Who did this to you? America?!"

America slumps backward against the chair, this time having fainted. England hurriedly checks America's pulse, then the injury. Quickly, he pulls some white gauze out of his back pocket, then pulls America's many shirts up just enough to wrap him up. He turns slightly pink, even though no one is there to see him.

England shakes America gently, hoping he might wake. When he doesn't move, England picks him up in his arms, gently rearranging his limbs so as to keep the American from hurting anymore. As he walks to his car, (taking the back ways, so nobody would see him) he thinks about how deep the wound was... Like someone had stabbed America...

He makes it to his car and sets the blue eyed nation in the backseat, laying him down gently and propping his head up on the door. Then, he hops into his car and speeds all the way back to London, thanking the heavens the meeting was only a half an hour from his place when he drove slow.

* * *

_January 30, 2012._

America's eyelids flutter open. He sits up. Then, he looks around. He's in a room with plain, white walls, a bed, (which he is laying on) a floor lamp in one corner, and a bedside table with a glass of water (in a teacup) on it. The last thing he remembered, he was at the World Meeting... England was yelling at him over something, right? He looks over and sees a clock. _That was convenient, _America thinks. It says it's almost 2:00. He jumps up and stretches, then feels something weird on his chest. He pulls his shirt up, revealing white gauze.

"Oh, man..." He says, then shrugs. "Well, I feel better now!" He unwraps the gauze from his body and drops it on the floor, wondering who was taking care of him. _Probably Russia, _he thinks, smiling lightly. Then, he opens the door. A familiar British accent drifts up the stairs to him. America smiles, a little surprised, as he thought it would be Russia's voice, but then happy, realizing England is _singing_. He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen, where England is making a bowl of soup.

"Yo! What does a person gotta do for a hamburger around here!" America yells, walking over to the fridge and searching the compartments. "Ugh. You have, like, nothing, man. Ivan always has stuff for me—" Alfred cuts himself off, "I mean, er—"

"What the bloody—Alfred Jones! Don't surprise me that way!"

"Alright, alright!" America says, grinning. "I'm gonna go now!"

"But you're not healed—Alfred, come back!" England yells, chasing America as he runs out the door, hops into a taxi, and drives off.

* * *

_February 2, 2012. 2:30_

England sits in an old chair and reads a novel, sipping tea from a white porcelain cup every once and a while. He flips the page just as his phone rings. Sighing, he reaches over and picks his phone off a wooden table, then flips it open.

"Arthur Kirkland speaking." He says, putting the phone to his ear.

"_Hey British dude! I'm coming to pick you up! I've got a little surprise for you! Be ready in about two minutes, no arguments and no getting out of it_!" America yells in the phone, and England moves it away from his ear.

"What? No! What makes you think you have any authority over me you git! And don't yell into the phone like that! It's disrespectful!" England says, his many brows furrowing.

America laughs on the other end, making England's heart flutter. "_Just come! It'll be fun_!"

"I refuse! No!"

America sighs. "_I guess... if you don't wanna come... I'll just_..." England hears the door bang open, and then America shouts, "COME IN AND GET YOU!"

England's jaw drops. He jumps out of his chair, sprinting for the stairs. "ALFRED FOSTER JONES, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" The Brit screams, making it up the first five stairs.

"Gotcha!" America yells, grabbing England's waist from behind.

England lets out a (NOT) girly squeal. Not from the fact that America was there quickly, but because of the electric shock that shot through him when America first touched him. England was not usually weak when it came to these things. In fact, he never was. He was smooth and relaxed and even a little cocky when someone were to place their hands on him, or if he were to do it to someone else.

But for some reason, this was different. The feel of America's firm hands as they lifted him up made him want to melt. The slightly tingly sensation that was still running through his body as a result of America's embrace made him blush. The way America's face lit up when England sent him a dazed and (DEFINITELY NOT) love struck smile made him feel like he was made entirely out of Jell-O. It was a feeling so new to England that was rendered speechless.

America carries him to the car over his shoulder, England sitting there, completely limp like a rag doll, listening to America whistling and laughing. Then, he's being set down in the passenger seat of the car, and America takes his hands off of him. England doesn't manage to entirely suppress the urge to put them back on his waist, and reaches out for a brief second, about to take America's hand, when he recoils it. The Brit then buckles his seatbelt, hiding his red face.

America gets in the car, still whistling, and starts it.

Once they get driving, England says, "Wh-why did you d-do that?!"

"Do what?" America asks, glancing at England with his brows furrowed in confusion.

"K-Kidnap me!" England yells.

America laughs, "I did not kidnap you!"

"Yes you did, wanker!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too—Oh, I'm not getting into this childish argument! Why the hell do you need me to come with you to—hey, where are we even going!?"

"It's a surprise!"

"If you don't tell me right now I'll—!" England cuts himself off. _Get close enough for you to touch me, and then when you do I'll turn into a big pile of stupid mush again! _

"You'll what?"

"N-Never mind!" Says England, blushing, "Where are we going?"

"Geez, do you not know the definition of surprise?"

"ALFRED."

"Not telling~!"

"Why do you even need me here?!"

America's smile dissipates, as if the wind came by and whisked it away. "I took you because I needed someone there in case I get hurt again..." America says, his voice barely a whisper, "They... They always manage to find me..."

England closes his mouth, then opens it again. This time, when he speaks, his voice is soft.

"America, please, what happened? Who's doing this to you, and what do they want?" _Why are these horrible people taking the time to track you down and hurt you?_

"I don't know who they are."

"Well, what do they want from you?!"

"I can't tell you."

"You have to! I need to know what I'm up against and how I can keep that fro happening to you again! You idiot, don't you understand how upset I was when I saw you all bloody?! I don't want that to happen again!"

"I can't tell you! I'm sorry!" America turns up the radio and drowns out England's voice.

* * *

February 2, 2012. 6:00

America laughs as the roller coaster swings upside down and blasts them with water at the same time. England grabs the American's arm, screaming his head off, which makes the younger man laugh even harder. When the roller coaster finally stops, England jumps off immediatley.

"Awh, Iggy. You don't wanna go again?" America teases.

"Go again? You kidnapped me, brought me here against my will, and then put me on that deathtrap! You bloody idiot! I'm soaking wet and freezing my arse off!" England yells, shaking out his hair. "Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have let you carry me away! You damn kidnapper!"

"I thought you were over that! It was like, two hours ago! Gosh, you always live in the past!" America grins.

"Let's just go!"

America looks at England with a light smile. "Look, Artie, I had a really great time. Thank you for coming with me. It was fun. I was gonna go alone but I know I had a much better time with you then I could ever by myself."

England turns red. "Y-You stupid git! Do you want to get some food?" He asks, trying to momentarily put off riding yet another roller coaster and distract America from his blush.

"Sure, but hold on. I gotta go use the little hero's room."

England rolls his eyes, nods, and walks to a food cart. He orders two hamburgers and two medium sodas, then sits down. _Hey_, He thinks, they _can't be too bad if America loves them so much._

Ten minutes later, America still isn't back. England decides to wait five more minutes and if he doesn't come back, he'll go check on him.

Five minutes pass. America doesn't come back. England starts to get worried. He throws their food away and walks toward the bathroom. When he gets close, he hears yelling, and then America's voice.

"Look, guys. I-I don't wanna fight-AH!" England hears something slam, and someone else laughs. America whimpers. England clenches his teeth and twists the doorknob, only to find it's locked. _Do they even have locks on public bathrooms?_ England thinks angrily. _What the hell kind of amusement park is this?! And why is it in London?! _

"P-please. Stop..." America pleads.

"You know what we want. Give us what we want, and we'll go." A gruff voice says.

"I-I don't have anything..."

"Yes you do! You have the book!" Another un-familiar voice says angrily.

_A book? A bloody fucking book is the reason America was bleeding and then passed out? What book could possibly drive people to beat another person senseless? _

"N-no, I d-don't. I swear..."

"We know you know who has it!"

_Who the hell has it, America?! Just tell them! _

"I-I don't know where the book is."

"You know who has it! We all know it!"

"I don't." England hears America whimper. Then, America cries out.

"Tell us who has it. Now."

"I don't know who has it!"

There's the sound of something slamming into a wall, a cry out, and then England can take it no longer. He begins to bang furiously on the door. He hears people rushing out, and runs to the back entrance just as four figures, all dressed in black, escape into the park. He shakes his head. His main concern right now is America. He runs into the bathroom and finds America shakily getting to his feet. He has a bloody lip, his arm is bruised, and one sleeve is almost ripped completely off his shirt.

"My god! America, what happened?"

"N-nothing. Let's go..."

"America. They wanted something from you. I heard it. What do they want?"

"It was nothing."

"No, it's not nothing! You have a bloody lip, and the other day you looked like you had just been stabbed!"

"I-I was..."

"WHAT?!"

"Nothing. Seriously, Artie. Let's just go."

"They wanted a book, right? So let's just go get the book and give it to them!"

"We can't do that!"

"Why not!? You can't keep getting hurt this way, I can't stand it!"

America looks surprised for a moment, but then his expression turns determined once again. "Because I'm the hero, and what's in that book is dangerous."

"How dangerous?! What's in it? And who has it?"

"England, just think of it this way. We can control the minds of our people, we can basically do whatever we want with them, right? So imagine if someone else had complete control over us. Then they would control the entire world."

"What kind of book could possibly give someone the power to do that?! And you still didn't answer my other question! Who has it? And why are they letting you go through all of this pain!"

"This book CAN do that! And they're not letting it happen, they don't even know that they have the book! And they can't know! End of story!"

"No, not end of story! You're going to listen to me!"

America glares. "This is stupid! I'm the hero and I'm saving YOUR ass too, so don't boss me around!"

"Then tell me how I can help you!"

"You can't!"

"ALFRED FOSTER JONES! Tell me who has it and tell me why right now!"

"I'm sorry, England." America says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small cloth.

"What the hell?! Are you crying or something, you git?"

Suddenly, the cloth is pressed to England's face, covering his mouth and nose. Before he can stop himself, he inhales, smelling the chemicals. _Oh._ The world goes black and he feels his knees buckle. He's out before America catches him.


	3. Chapter 3

_February 3, 2012. 3:00 AM_

_America sits at the bank of the river, a gun pointed at his head. England stares down at him with sadness as the young woman surges forward. America screams her name, screams for her to stay away, to stay back. He doesn't want to see it again, like he does every night. Still, she runs forward. Her brown hair cascades down her back, her pale pink lips drawn into a thin line. Her hazel eyes glitter with determination. Her white dress billows out behind her, and her shoes slip off her feet as she runs through the feild. America is screaming so hard he thinks his lungs will burst, as she jumps in front of him. The gun goes off, and Abigail falls into America's arms, dead. England reaches out and shakes him. _

_"Wake up!" England yells._

_"Huh-?" _

America is jolted from his nightmare as someone shouts his name. His eyes flutter open and meet bright green ones. England. His face is twisted into a look of concern, looking at the pale-faced American. Tears fall from America's eyes.

"You were dreaming about that night..." England says, slowly.

"N-no I wasn't!" The taller nation protests.

"You were screaming. You said her name over and over again..."

"I-I..."

England wipes a tear away from his eye. "I had no idea it caused you this much pain." He says weakly, a guilty look spreading across his face.

"It's fine, Iggy. I don't care. I'm totally over it. Heros don't live in the past, right!"

"Guess I'm not much of a hero, then."

"Huh?"

"I think about it all the time. I think about what I did. You loved her, but I was blinded by my anger to even think about how much it would hurt. I just wanted you to be... to be alone."

"E-england."

"I'm sorry, America." England says, looking up at the man in front of him.

"Thank you." America says, his voice falling so it is barely a whisper.

England sighs and looks at him. "Did you..." He pauses. America stares at him expectatantly, "Nevermind." The Brit says, "Night, America." He walks out of the room.

_February 3, 2012. 4:10 AM_

America finally drifts off to sleep.

_Her brown hair is put up elaborately and two small curls fall, framing her face. A pair of silver pearl earrings dangle from her ears. Her slender face has turned a shade of pink as the young man holds his arms out to her, smiling. She smiles back and walks down the steps, her pink heels clicking with each step. Her dress glides down the stairs along with her petite footsteps until she reaches the American. She thanks Alfred for buying her the most beautiful clothes she has ever worn._

_"Abigail," He says, "You look absolutely ravishing." He smiles, a piece of his sandy brown hair falling into his eyes._

_"As do you, Alfred." She says, reaching up to brush the stray hair away from his face, which was perfect in her opinion. His blue eyes glitter as he leads her the rest of the way down the stairs. Everyone in the room stares as the pair make their way down, whispering._

_"Isn't that woman just a peasant?" "What is she doing here with such a fine young man?" "Why would he take her to the ball?" "Isn't this only for classy people?"_

_Alfred ignores them, and leads Abigail out to the dance floor. The band begins to play a soft symphony. Alfred smiles down at the young woman, her hazel eyes gazing back up at him. Alfred spins her around, watching as her dress fans out. It's petal pink, and when it fans out, it reminds Alfred of a flower, opening up in the springtime. Abigail recoils into Alfred's arms, her hair brushing his chin. A warm, tingling sensation runs through him, and he smiles down at her._

_"Alfred." She whispers._

_He pulls her into a regular waltz position, and they begin to dance. He notices other people starting to come out onto the floor._

_"Yes, my love?" He asks sweetly._

_"I feel so out of place... Maybe I should just go. There are a lot of more suitable and worthy women awaiting their chance to dance with you." She says._

_Alfred's brows furrow as he looks deep into her eyes._

_"Abigail, you are more of a lady than any other woman in the entire world, and I'm in love with you. Not some girl waiting for the chance to dance with me."_

_She smiles. "But I don't fit in."_

_"You don't fit in because you are more beautiful than the rest." He says._

_"I love you."_

_"I love you too." Alfred leans down and kisses her, right on the lips in front of everyone. Someone taps his shoulder, interrupting their romantic moment. America turns to find England looking at him._

_"Excuse me, Alfred, but there will be no kissing at my ball." He says. Alfred grins sheepishly as England lowers his voice and says, "I'm proud of you, for finding someone so wonderful as her." He winks, and walks away. A warm blush spreads on the two lovers' faces._

_America's mouth slips into a smile as he dreams of the beautiful young lady. The older nation standing in front of him, a small smile creeping onto his face._

"Abigail..." America whispers sweetly. The Brit smiles down at America's content face.

_February 3, 2012. 2:10 PM._

Alfred smiles as England and him sit down for a late lunch at a small cafe in London.

"Hey, Iggy! Do you think we could check out Big Ben and watch it ring! And then go on the London Eye! And do something else! Hmmm... What are other good attractions..."

"Hmm? What's with this all of a sudden?" England asks curiously.

"I dunno. Guess I kinda just wanted to have some fun! After lunch, let's go see Big Ben ring!"

"Really? You want to?"

_"Engwand!" A young America calls._

_"Yes, America?" England calls back._

_"The bell is about to ring, hurry!" America runs to Big Ben, waiting for it to ring. He plops down on the ground and waits. England comes over and kneels beside him, smiling. The clock rings. It's 3 O'clock. America claps and laughs as it chimes, and England laughs joyfully at the young boy's excitement._

"Heeeeey? British dude? You there?" America asks the British man who stopped, his hand suspended halfway from his mouth, tea in hand.

"Huh? Oh. Yes, I'm fine."

"Well, I was saying that we could go see Big Ben, and then go to the London Eye, and then go to Buckingham Palace?"

"Hmmm... Perhaps it would be fun to go and see Big Ben ring. I haven't in quite a long time, actually." England admits.

"Cool! Then it's decided! We'll go see Big Ben, then the London Eye, and Buckingham Palace!"

"Sounds good." The Brit murmurs in between sips of tea.

_February 3, 2012. 2:30 PM._

America and England walk to the Big Ben, America making excited noises the whole way. When they finally arrive, America plops himself down on the ground and looks expectantly at the giant clock in front of him.

"America, that is rather undignified." England says.

"Too bad, dude! Chill your buns and come sit next to me!" America says happily.

"There is no way I will-AH!" America grabs England's arm and pulls him down, so he sits on the ground.

"America you bloody git! Un-hand me this instant!"

"No way dude! Let's watch it! And your legs will totally get tired if you keep standing!"

"Let me go!"

"Oh come on, British dude! It's just sitting on the groud!"

"Abigail would not have liked you to push her around like this!" England exclaims angrily.

America lets go of the Brit's arm, stunned, and looks back at the clock tower.

"You're right. She wouldn't want me to be such an idiot. Sorry." America says, wiping his eyes.

"Alfred..."

"No. Don't apologize. You're right. She would probably be ashamed."

"Ameica I-"

The clock begins to ring loudly. "Woah! Dude, this is so totally rad!" America jumps up and begins to run closer to the giant structure.

England sprints after. "America! Don't run so fast you bloody wanker! Come back here!"

America runs to the giant clock tower and hugs it. "You're like, the best clock EVER!" He says to the clock. "Almost as cool as England!" The young man says.

England comes up behind him, panting. He didn't hear a word of what America said. He smiles at the happy-go-lucky American teen, remembering all the wonderful times they shared. The bell stops ringing, and America grabs the Brit's hand.

"C'mon old dude! Let's go on the London Eye now!" America swings the Brit over his shoulders and runs all the way to the London Eye, the Brit laughing the entire time. America pays, and jumps into one of the crystal-clear caspsules. He sets England down, who is still laughing.

"That was fun!" England admits with a grin that America rarely ever sees.

"Really?" America asks, pressing his face to the capsule and looking out. "Dude! This is like, so awesome! But I gotta ask, does this thing get any faster?"

"Nope, sorry."

"So... could a person jump out of it, maybe?"

"Well, if you can swim... I mean, it's above land at some parts, too. So you might fall and get crushed on the ground."

"But... If you jumped at the right time you would just hit water...right?"

"Hmmm? Yes. What's with all these questions all of a sudden, anyway?"

"I was just wondering if I could jump out..."

"What?! That would be bloody suicidal! You aren't actually thinking about it are you?!"

"I already thought about it, and my thought is: _Go for it! You're too awesome to die_!"

With that, America opens the door to the capsule, breaking the lock right off, he jumps out into the the river.

"Bloody Hell!" England yells, looking out as the sandy-blonde haired boy hurtles toward the river, his back to the water.

"England this is totally awesome!" America yells up at him.

"America are you nuts?!" He screams, watching as America's figure falls deeper toward the ocean. Then, a boat passes by, and a man with dark brown hair holds his arms out and catches the crazy, hamburger-loving man. England sighs greatfully.

Meanwhile, America feels a strong pair of arms wrap around him. He smiles, and looks at the person who caught him. A man with green eyes and shaggy, dark brown hair.

"Spain! That was like, totally rad, dude!" America says happily.

Spain smiles. "You just jumped off the London Eye, si?"

"Ya man! And it was so awesome! Like, thanks for catching me though! That was so sweet! Maybe we should jump again together!"

At that same time, England is nervously tapping his fingers against the glass, knowing it's going to be a while before he can check on America and the mysterious brown-haired man.

"Are you crazy, America?" Spain laughs, setting the man back on his feet.

"Maybe, but it was soooooooooo AWESOME!" America laughs happily, forgetting about the worried Brit waiting above.

Spain smiles at him. "That was very daring of you. You deserve a churro for it!" He smiles and pulls a churro out of his pocket.

"Wow man, thanks! You're like, totally awesome!" America says, taking the churro and biting into it happily.

"Yeah, so are you."

"So, whatcha doing with this boat in England, man?"

"I dunno. Romano and I broke up a few months ago and I kinda wanted to get away, you see."

"Ah, I totally get it bro. Well, actually... I only ever loved one girl and she... nevermind."

Spain looks at him curiously, but then shakes his head and smiles. "So, why are _you_ in London anyway?"

"Iggy's making me stay with him."

"Oh? Are you two... Together?"

"No! No! Bro, where would you get that from! Iggy doesn't even like me, I bet..."

_Perfect, _Spain thinks.

"Hmmm? Where would you get that idea from? I 'm sure he likes you! Otherwise he wouldn't let you stay with him!"

America smiles. "Yeah, you're probably right! Thanks man!"

"No problem America! Anytime!"

"So, what's the name of your boat dude?"

"It's called the B_arcos Piratas_."

"Huh?"

"The Pirate Ship." Spain grins.

America laughs. "That's epic!" He says, looking over the side and out onto the water. Spain comes and stands next to him, leaning over the edge of the boat.

"Hey, America?"

"Yeah dude?"

"Do you know how to tango?"

"No, why?"

"I am a very good teacher. Do you want to learn?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want to learn to tango?" Spain asks.

America shrugs. "Sure dude, why not? It's gonna be a while before Iggy finally gets off the London Eye, anyway."

Spain grins and grabs both of America's hands immediatley. America is a fast learner, and within a half an hour, is almost as good as Spain. Meanwhile, England is just getting off the London Eye and is running along the bank looking for the boat. When he reaches it, he sees America and-is that Spain?-doing the tango to Latino music. America is obviously the girl role in this. England feels a pang of jealousy bubble up inside of him as he watches the two.

The Spainyard and the American move swiftly and gracefully along the wooden floor of the boat, twisting and turning. America is a little embarassed, but the dance is very fun, and the music is very upbeat and cool! Spain twists the young man around and puts his arm on the American's waist, pulling him closer. America leans in and the Spainyard backs away, letting the American be entirely supported by his arms. Then, very fast, America kicks his leg up. Spain grabs it and starts to twirl the American around.

England's jaw drops as America wraps his leg around Spain's waist. He feels rage bubble up inside of him. Why does he feel this way? _It's just dancing_, He reminds himself. America lets out his adorable-wait, did England think it was adorable?-laugh as he un-tangles his leg from Spain's. His feet touch the ground and they immediatley begin to move swiftly across the deck. Spain smiles happily. _America is a good dancer_, he thinks. America leans up against Spain so their faces are almost touching, and-to England's great shock-opens his mouth and bites the rose right out of Spain's mouth.

England can't stand this anymore! He hates the thought of seeing America with Spain and doing something so... so... the Brit doesn't even know. He just knows he wants America as far away from that ugly, stupid, bloody _disgusting_ Spainyard. England can't turn his eyes away. He is rooted to his place, watching America. How did England never realize before how handsome the young man was? He shakes his head, trying to get the thought out of his mind.

Spain grabs America's waist and lifts him above his head with incredible strength. The Brit's mouth drops open again, and right after he had closed it, too. What a shame. Then, to finish the dance off, Spain dips America so far back they are almost touching the floor. America is pinned and trapped by the wild Spainyard. Spain leans down and-England turns away. When he turns back, America and Spain are laughing and standing straight up, a foot apart.

"My my, America. You are a very sexy dancer." England overhears Spain say.

"Well, I had a good teacher. Dude, you're awesome! That was so fun!" America exclaims, bouncing in place.

"Maybe you can come over and can practice some more?" Spain suggests.

"Oh, definitely man!" America glances over and sees England. He smiles brightly and waves to the Spainyard. "Gotta go dude! Iggy's waiting for me!" With that, he jumps right into the water and swims to the shore. England turns away as America comes up next to him.

"Hey dude! What's up?"

"Did you and Spain kiss?" England asks before he can stop himself.

"What? Spain and I? Nah! We were just dancing! He taught me how! Why are you jealous?"

"N-no! Why would I be jealous? I already have a girlfriend!" England lies.

"What? You do? Who?" America asks. He doesn't know why, but he is kind of disappointed by the news.

"Seychelles." England says, naming the first person that pops into his head besides America.

"Wow! Dude! That's awesome! Maybe one day, Spain and I can teach you some moves to use on Seychelles! Man, I didn't think you had it in ya! Seychelles is a real babe!"

"Y-yeah.." England agrees.

**Hey you guys! Author of the story here! Yep! My first author's note. Okay, well, I just wanted to give ya'll a link to my inspiration for the tango scene. I dunno why, but the thought of America doing the tango with Spain... Just... Sexy! Anyway, if you want to watch the video, you have to skip about a minute and twenty seconds in because before that it's just the two people dancing being interviewed... Anyway, here's the link:**

** watch?v=NBBo81MG2k4**

**So yeah! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had fun writing it! TeHe. Please review!**

**Oh! And a pic of Spain and America dancing:**

**~Andrea. (Yes, that's my name.)**


	4. Chapter 4

_February 4, 2012. 3:30_

England pulls into the World Meeting two minutes before it starts and rushes up the stairs. He was waiting at his house for a call from America, who said he would pick him up for the meeting today.

"Bloody Git. Making me late for the meeting." England mumbles to himself, vowing to give America a peice of his mind when he goes in.

He bursts through the doors angrily, walk over to his chair, and plops down into it. He twists around, expecting America to be right there next to him so he can start yelling, but the bloody git isn't there! The Brit scans the crowd of nations among him, but America truly is absent.

"Alright! Ve vill start ze meeting now!" Germany yells.

Everyone rushes to their seats, except for Italy who is busy talking to his brother about some pasta recipe he just found. Germany ignores it, and begins to talk, but England can't concentrate. Where is America? Is he alright? Nobody else seems to notice the young man's absence.

_February 4, 2012. 4:00_

"Ve vill have a small break. Be back here in half an hour. No exceptions!" He yells.

England jumps out of his seat and immediately walks out of the room, ignoring all the eyes that follow him as he does so. He hops into his car and speeds to the hotel where America is staying. _He's never been late for a meeting before! Let alone miss half of it entirely,_ England thinks, _Something must be wrong._

England walks into the hotel and comes up to the desk.

"Ello there. Can I please have the room number to Mr. Alfred Jones?" The gentleman says politely.

"I'm sorry but you must tell me who you are. Mr. Alfred is a special guest in our hotel."

England sighs. "The bloody idiot told you he was America!"

"Yes. Since you know too, I'm sure it's okay for you to come and visit him. He's on the top floor, room 712."

England walks into the elevator and presses the button. He wait impatiently as the elevator slowly rises from the ground. People join on, and then get off, which slows this down even more. Finally, the Brit can't take it anymore. _It's only a three star hotel. I can surely make it to the fifteenth floor by the stairs._ He checks what floor he is on now. The seventh. He bursts out of the elevator, bumping people who let out a startled "Hey!" He doesn't even bother to apologize. He starts up the stairs with abnormal speed.

Floor 8, Floor, 9, Floor, 10... England is panting now, but keeps running as fast as he can go. Floor 11, Floor 12, Floor 13... England thinks his lungs are likely to explode, but still, he runs, driven by the thought that America must be hurt. Floor 14, Floor 15! He dashes down the long hallway and finds room 712. He presses his ear to the door and hears... nothing, except some heavy breathing.

"America! I'm coming!" England says, kicking the door down, he runs into the room.

America is slumped against a wall, his eyes closed. His shirt lays a few feet away from him. England looks him up and down. His lip is split, and he has a black eye. Scars, brusises, and bleeding wounds cover every visible inch of the young man's body. England runs over and shakes the unconcious man, muttering curses under his breath.

The American slowly cracks an eye open to look at the worried man in front of him.

"Oh... Hey... Iggy... What's up?" He asks weakly.

"What's up? You're covered in wounds! What the hell happened?"

"I... I... Nothing..."

"My god America! This is way out of hand! You better tell me!"

America's eye closes. "Yeah... Whatever dude... I'll tell you..." He says, before drifting into uconciousness. England lifts him into his arms bridal-style, trying not to hurt the young man, and walks out of the room.

"England... put me down..." America protests weakly.

"No, you bloody idiot!"

"They'll be back... I don't... want you here... when they come..."

"Who? Who's coming?"

"England..."

An idea goes off in England's head. He'll stay there and wait for them to come back. Yes! He turns around and walks back to America's room. He sighs, sets America down in his bed and starts to fix the door. When it's done, he sits down next to America and makes him sip some tea.

"England... you have to... leave..."

"Not while you're like this!"

"You don't... understand... if you don't... leave... you could... get hurt..."

"I will not leave your side you git!"

"England... I'm begging... they won't... hesitate...to do this... to you too..."

Engalnd's heart start's beating faster.

"Why are they doing this, America?"

"They wan't... the book..."

"What book?"

There's a knock at the door, and someone says sweetly, "Housekeeping!"

England stands, but America grabs his wrist. "Don't... It's them..." He whispers.

England pulls his wrist away. "Why would they pretend to be housekeeping? Silly American..." He says, opening the door. A man in a mask immediatley grabs his shoulders and throwing him against the wall. The British man cries out as the masked man walks past him and over to the bed. Another man grabs England and holds him in place, despite England's best attempts to break free.

"Do you have it?" The masked man, who England decides is the leader, asks.

"No.." America says.

The man growls angrily and smacks America.

"Where is it? We know you have it!"

"I...I don't..."

"Maybe your friend here would know?" The man asks. England's blood runs cold, and his eyes widen in terror.

"N-no. I... I don't even know him... he just came in..."

The masked man walks over to the terrified Brit.

"Is this true?" He asks the older man.

"Why should I tell you?" The Brit challenges.

The Masked Man raises a fist and grins. "Big mistake." He says, throwing a punch. Then, a hand stops it before it can connect with England's jaw. America is standing in front of the Masked Man.

"He doesn't... know anything..." America says, trying not to let his pain show.

"Hmmmm? Are you finally going to fight me?" The man asks.

"No. I will not fight you. Not today or ever."

"Then I see no reason why I can't hit this one, maybe he'll fight back."

"Just... let him go..."

"Why do you care?"

"He's innocent..."

"What are you going to give me?"

"Just... get him out... you can..."

"How about I get to beat you up?"

"Don't you... do that...anyway?"

"Yes. So is it a deal? I let the British moron go for a chance to beat you senseless?"

America nods, and England gasps.

Two men drag the Brit away, while he shouts back to America. Why did he do that? To protect me?

"Let me go! Alfred! Alfred! You're going to get hurt you bloody idiot!"

They throw him out the door, and then two men hold it so England can't bust it down again. England pounds furiously on it, screaming. About a half an hour later, the door un-locks. England runs in, noticing the window is open. _How the bloody hell did they get out the window?_ He thinks.

"America!" He cries, looking around. He finally spots him, laying in a pool of his own blood. England screams and runs over to him, tears start to spill over the edge of his cheeks. He shakes the younger man by his shoulders, desperately trying to wake him up. He picks America up and runs down the stairs, yelling "I need help!"

He makes it to the main lobby. When the woman at counter sees America, her jaw drops. She picks up her phone and calls an ambulance.

_February 14, 2012. 3:40. Valentines Day. _

America hasn't been conscious in three days. _At least they didn't stab him this time._ England thinks, sitting beside America's hospital bed. America cracks one eye open.

"Iggy..." He says, reaching out to England.

"America! You're up! How are you feeling? My god!"

"What... day is it?"

"What does it matter!"

"What day is it?"

"Valentines Day." England says worriedly.

"I... have a present... for you..."

"What? For me?"

"Yeah. It's under my bed..."

"What bed?"

"At my... house..."

"Oh, America! You got me a gift?"

"Course I did... Iggy... It's Valentines... day..."

"T-thanks, America. I... I have one for you too." England blushes and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small ring with a heart on it.

"I-It's dumb I know but..."

America grabs the ring and slips it on his-_is that his ring finger?-_ smiling.

"I love it."


	5. Chapter 5

_February 15, 2012. 1:26 AM._

_She stands in front of him, smiling her beautiful smile, her curly hair just brushing her shoulders. _

_"You cut your hair," The man says, picking up a strand and smiling, "You look beautiful."_

_"You're too kind." _

_The man just smiles, and grabs her hand. Then, there's a flash of lightning, and he's looking at a blonde man with green eyes in a pirate uniform. The younger man quickly recognizes him. But, what disturbs the younger man the most is who the pirate man has. He is grinning evily, holding the girl against his back, a knife to her throat. Then, he pushes it in, killing her. The other man drops to his knees and opens his arms. _

_"Kill me! If you take her away, I have nothing left!" He cries. _

_"I want to see you suffer." The pirate grins evily. The, the younger man grabs his gun, and aims at his head._

_"I'll be with you soon, my love." He mumbles as the gun goes off._

His eyes snap open. He looks around, panting. There are dry tears on his face. He looks up, realizing there are a pair of green eyes staring at him worriedly.

"Iggy!" America yells happily. He reaches out and throw's his arms around the Brit's neck, squealing with delight. "Ow... I'm so sore..."

"Well, yeah! You bloody idiot! You were beaten unconcious by men in masks! By the way, you better tell me what the hell that was all about you bloody git!"

"Did they hurt you at all?" The young nation asks.

"No! Now tell me what they were doing!"

"N-nothing!"

"You bloody liar! I watched them barge right in there! What the hell did they want?"

"I can't tell you Iggy!"

England stands up with an exasperated sigh.

"You have to tell me something! How the hell can I prevent this-" England gestures to the bruised and bandaged young man- "from happening to you again!"

"What does it matter what happens to me! You didn't seem to care when you shot the only person I ever loved!" America says angrily.

England opens his mouth and then closes it again, stunned.

"I-I... You... You bloody git! I care about you! I always have! I'm sorry, okay? How long are you going to hold onto that!"

"I loved her, England! I was in love with her! So in love, I wish you would shoot me sometimes, just so I wouldn't feel so alone!"

"I-I... I'm sorry... I know you loved her. I saw it. I saw the grief in your eyes when you lost her... You call her name in your sleep almost every night. It makes me feel horrible. I regret it every day. What I did was stupid, wrong, and flat out disgusting. I hate myself for what I did to you that night.."

"Then why did you do it? Why didn't you shoot me instead! She didn't deserve to die!"

"Because I couldn't stand it if you died!" England yells.

The room falls silent. England begins to blush.

"I-I never knew you felt that way..."

"Huh? Like what you wanker!"

"You neeeeed me!" America teases.

"Of course I do! It's not a joke! I need you! That's why I'm so worried about you! That's why I need to know who's doing this and why! I want to help! I want to take away your pain..."

"Iggy..." Someone wraps their arms around him. "I take all this because I don't want you hurt either."

England sucks in a breath and takes America's hands off of him. "No. Don't touch me. When you do that I... Never mind. Just tell me who and why people are doing this to you. Please."

"I can't!"

"At least tell me what they want."

"No. If I tell you, they could come after you. They already know your face. I try, but I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'm bound to succumb to the pain eventually..."

"I don't understand what that has to do with why I can't know."

"Because it's dangerous. I know where it is, but if I tell them, they'll put the owner in danger."

"Who? Who has it?"

"I can't say. It's too dangerous. If they make me tell them your name, it's better for you if you don't know."

"Alfred Foster Jones! Tell me right now!"

"No! Do you realize how dangerous this is? You could get hurt! You could end up like this if you find out! They will know that you know, Iggy."

"God dammit America! I don't care! I've been worried sick for the past two months! One day you're fine and the next day you're... you're unconscious on the floor laying in a pool of your own blood! It's terrifying! I can't take it anymore!"

"Then stop taking it! It would be better if you would just... stop caring."

"How can I stop caring for you? It's not that simple, you bloody git!"

America looks away, sniffling. "I... I... I want you to be safe, Iggy."

"I want the same for you! Why can't you see that!"

"Because! It's better if you're safe than me!"

England stops and lowers his voice. "A-America..."

"I couldn't bear to see you like I am right now! You're the only one I have left..."

England sighs as America reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him back.

"Will you cuddle with me?" The younger nation asks.

"Huh? America!"

"C'mon Iggy... Just for a little while..." America sighs, wrapping his arms around the Brit.

"Okay fine. But only for a minute, because this is rather undignified."

"Mhmmmm..."

Within a minute, America is asleep, and England is pinned in his warm embrace.

_February 15, 2012. 10:22 AM._

England's eyes snap open when he hears the screaming. He jumps up.

"Abigail! Don't leave me!" America screams, twisting and turning in the hospital bed. England feels the tears coming on. _He dreams about her every night,_ the Brit thinks. He grabs the younger man's shoulders and shakes him awake, noticing the tears that stream down the hamburger-loving man's face.

"America! America wake up!" England yells. America's eyes slowly open as he shakes the dream off.

"England... What's up?"

England looks at him, puzzled, but throws some clothes at him. "You get to go home today. But you're staying at my place from now on, and I'm never letting you out of my sight. After that bloody mess, literally, I'm going to keep an extra-special eye on you from now on until this stops."

"It won't stop until I'm dead." America says in a flat tone.

"S-stop joking like that America."

America suddenly stands up and looks straight into England's green eyes. "I'm dead serious."

England blinks a few times. "That won't happen! I won't allow it you bloody git!"

America sighs. "You just don't get it, do you?" The young nation walks into the bathroom with his change of clothes.

_February 16, 2012. 8:02 PM._

"This is so totally rad! I'm so glad I didn't miss the party!" America yells, barging into England's bedroom. England flinches as the door slams against the wall loudly.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just go you wanker!" England says.

"Will Spain be there?" America asks, blushing.

"Why?"

"W-well. He left something on the doormat at my house and... um... Just tell me dude! Like, will he be there or not!"

"Yes. Most likely." England says bitterly.

"Woah! Dude! What's with the snapping!"

_I wonder that too,_ England thinks. "Let's just go."


	6. Chapter 6

_February 16, 2012. 3:54 AM._

_Spain grabs America's throat and pulls him back, pressing the barrel of a gun into his shaggy hair until it bumps his head. He grins and looks back at the British Pirate in front of him. America whimpers, struggling to breathe and scared to death of the gun in the Spainyard's hand. _

_"Let him go!" England screams, beginning to run forward. _

_"All I have to do is pull the trigger and your little America is gone for good." England stops running. _

_"What do you want? I'll give you anything!" England exclaims._

_"Give me... Your ship. With everything on it." Spain says, somehow knowing of all the treasures that lay on England's ship._

_"England! D-don't do it!" America yells. _

_England doesn't even think before agreeing. _

_"Give me America back first." He says, through clenched teeth. He can barely stand seeing that god damned gun pressed to America's head. _

_"Fine." Spain smiles and throws the American to the ground. The young nation hits the ground with a hard thump. England rushes forward, barely noticing as Spain runs to his-now Spains-ship. _

_"America!" He gaps, lifting the American's head up and laying it in his lap. "Are you alright?"_

_"England. You gave your ship away for me..." America sits up and looks at England, before pressing his lips to the surprised Brit's._

_February 24, 2012. 8:00 PM._

England straightens his bow tie out in the mirror and then walks out of his house and to his car. He sighs. What's the lad's name?-oh! Canada- is staying with America for the next few days, and will also take him to the ball tonight. Normally, England would never go to a ball, but "everyone who's anyone" in Poland's words, will be there.

England sighs, wondering if America has a date. _Wait. I don't care if America has a date! Why would I? _

When England finally arrives, someone escorts him into the Grand Ballroom. Almost everyone who was invited is already here. Eventually, Canada arrives, but America doesn't follow him in. England notes that Spain hasn't arrived yet either. The gentleman walks over to Canada and clears his throat.

"Hello Canada." He says.

The young man turns around and looks up at the Brit, his big violet eyes blinking behind his glasses when he sees who it is.

"Oh, hi England." He says in his usual whisper of a voice.

"Um. I was kind of wondering.. Do you know where America is?"

"Well, right as we were about to leave, Spain showed up at his place and said he was going to be take America to the ball! I was rather surprised, but America just blushed and got into the car." He says, a little louder.

Jealousy plunges into England like a knife. "Will Spain be... his.. um, date?"

"W-well.. I don't know, but he _did_ kiss America's cheek."

"Oh... Well, thank you for telling me." England nods and walks off to grab some punch.

_That damn bastard! He probably forced America to come! Or... Brainwashed him! Or put some kind of weird voodoo on him!_ All of these thoughts made the Brit feel better, though they were all very irrational.

Then, the door opens, and America and Spain walk in, side by side and smiling at each other, obviously in the middle of a conversation. England furrows his many eyebrows and looks over towards Seychelles. She looks stunning in a floor-length blue ball gown that sparkles and shines almost as bright as her smile. Her hair is down, and is straightened. England walks over to her and asks her to come out to the dance floor as the first slow song starts to play.

She smiles as he leads her out to the dance floor. Although Seychelles is very beautiful, England can't help but steal glances at Spain and America. They are holding hands and waltzing in slow circles, Spain's head rests on the young nation's shoulder, and America's arm is wrapped around the Spaniard's waist. England looks back at the beautiful girl in front of him, who is now looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"Hey, England?" She asks.

"Yes?" He asks, looking back at him.

"You love America, don't you?"

"Wha- What? That's absurd! I don't like that idiot at all," England's cheeks heat up as he stutters along, "Wh-why?"

"You've been stealing glances at him and Spain all night. And you're _obviously _jealous of the two of them together." Seychelles smiles.

Do I like America? England thinks, coming to sudden realization. "Oh my bloody god! I _do _like that idiot! Seychelles, how could you possibly know before I did?" England gasps.

"It's obvious to everyone except the person who should know," the wise young woman says, "But I promise I'll help get you two together!" She says.

"Oh... heh, about that... I-I kinda told America that you and I were a couple."

"Oh... Well, then we'll just say that we decided to just be friends!" Seychelles smiles brightly at the former pirate with beautiful brown eyes.

"Thank you, Michelle. You're amazing." England leans down and pecks her cheek lightly, smiling. A small blush spreads across her face, as they part ways when the song ends.

Then, fast music starts playing. All the girls smile at each other, and pull off their previous ball attire, revealing skimpier, more party appropriate. England wonders who is holding this party! It's supposed to be classy ball! The flashing lights turn everything different colors, and a glittering disco ball glitters high above. England frowns, _especially _when he sees America and Spain making their way onto the floor. America's tie is hanging loosely, untied around his neck, and his jacket is nowhere to be found. His vest is unbuttoned and so if half of his shirt. Spain's shirt is completely open, his coat and bowtie gone.

Meanwhile, Canada stands by the punch bowl until a man with glittering red eyes and a big grin comes over to him.

"Vell hello there Canada." He says.

"H-Hi Prussia..." Canada whispers, his violet eyes searching the (awesome) man's intently.

"Care to come to the floor vith ze awesome me?" He grins.

Canada thinks it over for a second before shrugging. _It's not like he has anything better to do tonight_. Prussia grabs Canada's hand, and sparks shoot up both of them. He leads Canada out to the dance floor, where Canada shrugs out of his coat and takes off his glasses. Prussia begins to untie Canada's tie. Canada grins. _I'll be wild for one night, _Canada thinks.

"The awesome me thinks you are almost as awesome, Canada." Prussia says.

"Thanks." Canada says.

"And I... vould like to... take you on a date sometime!" Prussia says.

Canada blinks up at him, then grins. "Anytime." He says.

**(NOTE FROM AUTHOR HERE. I HIGHLY RECCOMEND LISTENING TO THE SONG **_**FLIGHTLESS BIRD, AMERICAN MOUTH, BY: IRON AND WINE WHILE READING THE PART BETWEEN POLAND AND LITHUANIA! THANKS!)**_

Eventually, the music fades into a slow song. Poland lights up when he hears it, and runs over to Lithuania. _This is my chance! _He thinks as the opening for _Flightless Bird, American Mouth _begins.

"Hey Liet!" Poland says, walking over to the Lithuanian man.

"Oh, hey Poland." Lithuania says.

Poland's heart starts to beat faster as he stutters "W-would you like, d-dance w-with me?"

Lithuania's eyes light up, and he nods, speechless. Poland takes his hand in his and leads him out to the dance floor. The night has calmed down a lot, and all the girls are once again wearing their fancy dresses, and the men have put their outfits back together. Poland smiles as the chorus starts. He rests his head on Lithuania's shoulder and closes his eyes, slowly swaying to the music.

_Have I found you?_

_Flightless Bird, Jealous, Weeping..._

_Or lost you, American Mouth..._

_Big Pill Looming..._

Lithuania hesitates, before carefully wrapping an arm around the Blonde's waist and pulling him a little closer. Poland smiles, looking up into Lithuania's bright blue eyes.

"Um... You know, Liet. I like, really think you're like, totally awesome and stuff." He says softly, a rosy pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Thank you. You're really... awesome too." Lithuania says back.

Poland smiles up at Lithuania before they begin to sway back and forth, slowly taking steps closer to the other. Poland once again rests his head on Lithuania's shoulder. Then, to his great surprise, Lithuania rests his head on top of Poland's. The blonde man suck in a breath as they begin to slowly spin while gently rocking back and forth, their chests touching. Warm air rushes around them, and the world seems to disappear, leaving only the two of them. Slowly, Lithuania lifts his head off of Poland's. Poland lifts his head up, to see Lithuania looking down at him and smiling warmly. Lithuania leans down, until their foreheads touch. The Polish man breathes Lithuania in, smiling.

Then, the song is over. Poland sighs and takes a step away from Lithuania who pulls him back, and places a soft, and short kiss on the blonde man's lips. Poland's green eyes widen as Lithuania lets go of his arm and disappears into the crowd once again. He reaches a hand up to his lips and touches them with his fingers, thinking _Oh my god, like, my true love totally just kissed me and stuff! Eeep!_ Poland walks over and grabs a small pastry off of a table, popping it into his mouth, he smiles and begins to tell Finland about their wedding plans, to which Finland asks when they're getting married.

"Oh, I dunno. But Lithuania _totally_ just kissed me, and he's like, my true love, so we're totally going to like, get married and do all of that totally romantic stuff."

Finland smiles. "Well, congrats I guess!" Then, Sweden takes his hand and leads him out to the dance floor.

_**Note from author again! I highly reccomend listening to the song "Turning pages." By: Sleeping At Last! **_

America sighs as Spain is whisked away by North Italy, who "Want's to dance with his fratello for a little while! Ve~" Then, one of his favorite songs begins to play. He smiles and closes his eyes as "Turning Pages" begins to play. He sways back and forth slowly, thinking of his beautiful Abigail and how wonderful she would've looked under the lights of the candles in this grand ballroom. He cringes, thinking of her. He wonders if he'll ever be able to feel that way about someone again. He wonders why he isn't mad at England. Probably because he knows Abigail would eventually die while he would be stuck, mourning her death as he does now. Nothing good ever comes out of loving someone immortal. He sighs contently when someone taps his shoulder.

He opens his eyes just as someone shoves him right into a certain Brit, who was also shoved in his direction. Seychelles and Hungary grab England and America, put them in a dancing position, and shove them out onto the dance floor, despite the American's confused rantings.

"What was _that?" _America sighs, beginning to sway to the music.

"I have no idea..." England says, looking away.

"I love this song.." America sighs, beginning to sway to the music once again. England begins to slowly spin them in a circle.

"I didn't know you liked this kind of music."

"How could I not? It's beautiful..." The American closes his eyes and rests his head on top of England's, because of how much taller he is than the Brit, much to the blonde's great surprise.

"Yes, it is." England says softly, a blush spreading across his face.

"Hey, Iggy?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"About a million." America smiles into England's hair.

"Anyway, just say what you were going to say."

"I just want you to know, that I forgave you a _long_ time ago for what happened that night."

England is speechless. He just stares at the ground. America sighs.

"I forgave you the day it happened." England finally whispers.

America closes his eyes again and relaxes, stepping a few inches closer to England. Then, the song ends, and the fast songs begin. America blinks, not realizing how long they've been dancing. Spain grabs his wrist and whisks him away from England in one swift motion. America waves to England with his free hand, and begins to dance with the Spaniard. England groans inwardly. Seychelles walks over.

"Don't worry, England. He doesn't love Spain." She reassures.


	7. Chapter 7

_February 26 2012. 2:33 PM. _

America and England stroll down the streets of Washington D.C. looking at random tourist sites, taking silly pictures of each other, and just flat out goofing off. America hasn't seen England this happy and smiling since he was still just 13 colonies! England is in the middle of posing when America abruptly drops the camera, and begins to run towards England. He grabs the Brit's arm, throws him over his shoulder, and breaks into a sprint towards the white house. England hears several pairs of running footsteps behind them as they run.

Finally, America makes it to the White House gates. They let him in immediately, and close the doors. He runs into the giant place and carries England to his bedroom for when he stays there. He sets England down and locks the door behind him.

"Bloody Hell America! What in god's name was that all about?"

"Nothing! Hahaha, I just wanted to go for a run!"

"Oh, please! You're such a horrible liar!"

"No! It's true, dude! I was like, totally in the mood for a jog!"

"You were running for your life, into the White House, because you wanted to jog?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"I don't believe you. It was those damn masked men, wasn't it!"

"No," America turns his back to England.

_Meabwhile at the Masked Men's Headquarters._

"Look at these pictures. Who's that man with him?" One man asks.

"That's Arthur Kirkland. Rumor has it he's smitten." The other replies.

"He likes Alfred?"

"Si."

"Do you have anything else to report?"

"I can't get anything out of him! We talk all the time, yet he won't budge."

"You may go."

"Gracias."

_Back at the White House._

"Look, Iggy. I'm not gonna tell you! This is for your own safety!"

"America! Tell me or- or I'll... Make you eat my cooking." England thinks this will surely make America crack.

"Do you really think I would risk your safety more than I already have for food?"

"More than you already have?"

"Just me being around here is a threat to your safety. But how could I possibly stay away from my favorite Brit?" England's heart flips over in his stomach at America's words, and his face begins to heat up. England reaches over and ruffles America's hair, accidentally tugging the young nation's ahoge. In a second he's laying on his back, pressed against the table, America's breath hot on his face. England gasps, sucking in a breath at being so close to him. America straightens himself out with an awkward laugh.

"Just tripped on that pencil. Hahaha." America lies, points at a stray pencil on the ground. England can't know that Nantucket... ahem ... turns him on.

England believes this immediately. _Of course he wasn't going to kiss you, England! He doesn't love you! _England thinks, which only disappoints him more. He visibly deflates.

"Hey, Iggy? What's wrong?" America asks, taking a hesitant step forward.

"I just... I'm disappointed that you won't tell me who they are and what they're doing."

"Honestly, I don't know who they are."

"Huh?"

"They always wear those masks..."

"Oh, right. Of course."

"I think it's time to go." America says, abruptly standing up. _England almost got hurt. Again. That was too close._ He thinks.

"O-okay."

America stands up and leads England out of the president's house, lost in thought. He has a car pull up for England.

"Get him on the next flight home, please." The American says, pushing England into the car. He leans in and looks into the penetrating green eyes.

"Are you coming, too?"

America sighs. "Goodbye, England." He runs a hand through the Brit's hair and smiles a sad smile.

"Huh? Wait, America-" America slams the door to the car, and the driver takes off.

_I have to disappear. For England's safety._ The hamburger-loving nation wipes a tear away, and calls a car up to take him home. He'll pack, and leave in the morning.

_February 27, 2012. 3:00 AM._

America knocks on a plain white door, holding a suitcase in one hand. He looks down to see the doorknob turning, and the door swings open. A brown haired man with blue opens the door for the young man, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he sees who it is, he grins and lunges forward, hugging him. America smiles.

"Hey Lithuania."

"America! What are you doing here?"

"I... I was wondering if I could stay here for a while. You're the only person I could think of who I know I can trust not tell _anyone._"

"Huh? America, you seem worried? Why must nobody know?"

"I'm in danger, Lithuania. If you tell someone, they could inform the people out to get me. I won't stay here for long, I need to keep moving around. But I missed you!"

"You're in danger?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, it'll blow over."

"But you're the hero! Stand up and fight! I'll fight by your side!"

America grins. "That's the spirit! But this time, I'm afraid, if I fight, we'll both loose." America pulls his jacket off, and then unbuttons his shirt, revealing many blue-black bruises.

"Oh my god America! Who has done this to you?" Lithuania asks angrily.

"Please, just let me stay here for a while. I'll be gone in no time, I swear."

"You can stay as long as you like." Lithuania says, pulling him into his house. It's cozy and warm inside. America sighs.

"I always liked your place." He says, setting his suitcase down for a second to pull of his gloves.

"Thank you. Um... I still have that room you used to stay in when you were here... There's a lot of things you never took back, if you would like that room again, you can take it for as long as you stay. And, please, stay for a while. I missed your company!"

"I've missed you too, Lithie. But I really can't stay for longer than two weeks. I have to keep moving, or they'll find me. I'm sorry. But, I promise, when this is over, we'll do something fun together!"

"Okay. You remember where that room is, right?"

"Yep! Thanks Lithuania!" America picks up his suitcase and walks to his room for the next few weeks.

_Earlier that day. _

"Dammit! This is the seventh time I've called him! Where the hell is that bloody git! I want to do something fun with him for once and he doesn't pick up!" England runs a hand through his hair, practically shaking with anger. He gets in his car and decides to drive to the airport. America _never_ doesn't answer his phone. When he arrives, he shows the woman at the front desk his passport and asks for a one-way ticket to America.

"I'm sorry, but I have orders from people very high up in the American government. You are no longer allowed to go to America." She says with a tight smile on her face.

"What?! Of course I am! I'm the bloody United Kingdom and I can go wherever I want!" He cries.

"I'm afraid not. Apparently, going to America is a risk to your safety that Mr. Jones doesn't want to take."

"A risk to my safety? That's a bunch of bullshit! Tell 'Mr. Jones' that I'm coming there no matter what!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm going to have to ask you to leave, or security will have to escort you."

England fumes, grabs his passport with an angry glare, and storms out of the airport.

_Why in the bloody hell won't America let me come there! 'A risk to my safety he doesn't want to take'! What a bloody idiot! Now I have no way of knowing if he's alright!_

England gets in his car, vowing to find America somehow.


	8. Chapter 8

_March 1, 2012. 4:51 PM. _

America lays on the king size bed in his friends house, staring at the ceiling. He misses England. They had been hanging out a lot lately, and he wants to go and see him. He sighs, knowing he can't. He prays that England will accidentally find him, even though that is selfish. He briefly wonders if the Brit is even looking for him. He's only been gone for a few days, afterall.

_Of course England isn't looking for you, why would he? _This only makes America more depressed. His pocket vibrates, and "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds." rings out. He sighs, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He brought it solely to communicate with his boss, just to know his place was doing. But it wssn't his boss. It was England. America throws the phone at the far wall, where it hits with a low _thump!_ and falls to the floor.

"Damn, England. You're not making this any easier!" He yells at the sky.

About ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door, and Lithuania comes, and sits down on the corner of the American's bed.

"Hey, Lithie. Sorry for all the yelling."

"It's no problem. I understand how upset you must be, having to hide. If only I was stronger. I would fight them off for you!"

"It's not your fault."

Lithuania reaches out a hand, and America takes it. The Lithuanian man heaves America up, and asks if he would like to have a picnic in his private garden. Nobody would see them there, it's private. America nods, and "Lithie" leads him to a small, but absolutely beautiful garden. Flowers of every color stretch across the land in no particular order, as though Lithuania just sprinkled random seeds on the ground and let them grow that way, which he had. In the middle of the garden, there was a fountain surrounded by white lilies.

"This garden is awesome!"

Lithuania smiles. "Thank you."

And then, the two sit down to eat a feats of sandwiches, soda, and pastries!

_March 5, 2012. 7:30 PM. _

England is getting worried. _Nobody_ has seen America anywhere since the day in the white house. What if the masked men finally found him? How would England live with himself! That was his little boy, his friend, his _crush. He runs a hand through his hair as, exasperated. He hasn't slept in two days, and looks awful._

"God, America! Where the hell are you!"

His computer beeps, and he angrily goes to look at it. An e-mail. He opens it, expecting something pervy from France, or something about Pandas from China. But, no. It's from America! He quickly clicks on it.

_Dear England, I'm safe. Just wanted to let you know that I'm fine. I had to go off on my own for a while. It's too dangerous to stay, but I miss you all the time. Please don't worry too much, someone told me you haven't slept in a few days. _

_Who told America that? _England thinks.

_I don't like thinking about you all stressed out and stuff, so I e-mailed you. It's really dangerous though Please be okay until I come back. Love, America. _

England quickly hit's the reply button and begins to type.

America's e-mail beeps. He looks at it, startled. He didn't expect England to reply to his previous e-mail so quickly.

_**E: **__America! Where the hell are you? _

_**A: **__Can't say._

_**E: **__Why'd you leave?_

_**A: **__Can't say that either._

_**E: **__Why don't you come stay with me?_

_**A: **__Too dangerous for you. _

_**E: **__Tell me something!_

_**A: **__I can't. I have to go soon. _

_**E: **__America! Come on! I'll hide you! Everyone is worried sick!_

_**A: **__Tell me you miss me. _

_**E: **__Huh?_

_**A: **__Please._

_**E: **__Of course I miss you!_

_**A: **__I miss you too. I'll be back eventually. Bye._

_**E: **__America! Wait!_

_**E: **__America! America come back! _

_**E: **__I know you can see these you jerk!_

_**E: **__Answer me, please! _

_**E: **__America!_

_**E: **__Alfred Foster Jones, I'm going to find you. _

America shuts down Lithuania's computer and starts to pack his bags. England's gonna track him, and so they both have to leave for a while.

"Hey, Lithuania!" America calls, running down the hall and reaching into his pocket.

"Yes, America?" Lithuania calls back.

"I e-mailed England, so you get to go on vacation in America for a week!"

"Huh? What? Why?"

"Cuz they're gonna track my e-mail back to your house, and he's gonnna question you. So, I'm gonna give you some money, and you can go to my house and vacation in America!"

"I always liked you place..."

"Great!" America hands him a few thousand dollars, a plane ticket, and the keys to his house and cars. "That plane leaves in two hours, do you have someone to take you to the airport?"

"Yeah. Thanks for looking out for me America!"

"No problem. I have to go, now." The American leans over, kisses the Lithuanian's forehead, and is out the door. Lithuania wonders how he's traveling and tries to ignore the tingling sensation his forehead where America kissed it.

_March 7, 2012. 2:30 AM. _

There's a knock on the young woman's door. She crawls out of bed and throws on her blue dress, then she walks to her door and opens it. A tall man stands in the doorway, his blue eyes sparkling.

"America!" She cries.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Of course! Where have you been? We've all been worried sick!"

"Well, that's the thing, Seychelles. You can't tell anyone. I'm-" He leans in closer and whispers- "Hiding. There's some people out to get me. I've been jumping around from place to place so they can't find me, but someone has been informing them about me. So, you can't tell _anybody_ where I am. _Please."_

"I won't tell. I promise." She says, looking up at him.

"Thank you. I'll be gone soon, but for now do you have somewhere I could stay...?"

"Yes, of course. I'll take you there now."

"Thanks!"

"Does... England know where you are...?"

"Nope. Nobody does, except you now."

"Oh. Why don't you tell him?"

"Because. They'll hurt him if they know he's close to me, and they can tell when you're lying. If he knows and lies, he'll get hurt. And I can't... I don't want him to be hurt. He means too much."

Seychelles smiles to herself. "I see." She opens a door and ushers America inside.

"Night, Seychelles."

"Goodnight, America." The young woman closes the door and retreats back to her room.

_March 6, 2012. 5:10 PM. _

England paces back and forth. Maybe he can track America...? Yes! His e-mails! They have to be sent from somewhere! He calls some people in, and they track his e-mails to none other than Lithuania's house.

"Huh, so. Lithuania has been hiding him, huh?"

England flies to Lithuania and knocks on the door. Nobody answers. He knocks again, certain that his beloved America must be somewhere inside. England cautiously tries the knob, finding the door unlocked. He takes a step inside. All the lights are off, and the shades are drawn. He slowly walks around the unfamiliar house, Spain right behind him. England brought him because he was sure America would like to see Spain more than himself.

They open all the doors, but find the whole house is empty. There's no trace of anyone. England sighs. _I lost him again, _England thinks.


	9. Chapter 9

_March 8, 2012. 3:30 PM. _

America stands in Seychelles' bathroom, an empty bottle of red hair dye, green contacts, and spray tan on the counter next to him. He carefully slips the contacts into his eyes, and puts his glasses on; he doesn't care if he doesn't need them anymore, he likes them. They're all he has left of himself now. He looks at the man in the mirror and sighs. This man is nothing like him. He has to make up a new personality, a new name.

He decides he'll be smart. A scholar, perhaps. His name will be Andrew. Andrew Foster Jones. Yes, he's keeping the middle and last name. He can't loose himself completley. But you're probably wondering why he's doing all this, aren't you? Simple. America had overheard Seychelles on the phone with someone, and she had told him he was there. Now, he was disgusing himself and hopping on the next train to somewhere far away!

He stuffs his things inside his worn out, leather suitcase and bolts out the door before Seychelles can come chasing after him. Soon, he reaches the train station. He sits down. He's decided to go to Russia. It's going to take a very, very long time. He pulls his hood up and looks out the window, not wanting to be seen.

Eventually, someone slips into the seat next to him. He doesn't turn to look at the stranger beside him. Eventually, the person taps his shoulder.

"Excuse me," A voice asks, a very farmiliar and a very _British _one asks, "Do you have the time?" America turns as calmly as he can, and stares into those green eyes.

"Um... Yeah. It's about 5:30."

England stares at him in shock. Crap! America didn't disguise his voice! Would England recognize him?

"Alfred?" The Brit asks.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, sorry. You just sound a lot like someone I miss very much."

"Ah. Sorry, but you don't look familiar.." America says with a small smile.

"What's your name?"

"Me? I'm Andrew. Andrew Jones. You?"

"Arthur Kirkland. Wait, did you say your last name was Jones?"

"Yes...?"

"Middle name?"

"Huh? Why?"

"Why not?"

America shrugs, as a name suddenly pops into his head. "Andrew Jeremy Jones."

"Ah. A nice name."

"Thanks?"

"So, what do you like to do?" This man seems very familiar to England for some reason, and he wants to know more about him.

"I like a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Well, I like Poetry and Art. Umm... I like to read, and listen to music. Oh! And baseball... and um... Hamburgers!" He blurts.

"Hamburgers and Baseball?"

"And Literature!"

"And literature. Interesting. Where you from, Andrew?" England is becoming growingly suspicious.

"I'm from New York."

"Nice."

"Well, I have to go to the bathroom..." America stands up and walks out before he can see anymore of the British man he misses so much. He looks in the mirror once he gets in there. He feels like England can see right through his disguise, to the person underneath. He splashes water on his face, trying to refresh himself.

"Dammit," He mutters. "Just my luck, that England gets on this exact train as me!"

He doesn't notice that one of his contacts fell out, and he walks out of the bathroom, and plops down in his seat and looks out the window.

"America?" It's barely a whisper. America turns toward the Brit with a questioning look. England's eyes widen.

"America!"

"Who.. who is America?"

"You bloody git! One of your contacts fell out! Why are you hiding from me?"

"England! God dammit! Why the hell did you have to get on this train!"

"I'm glad I did. I really missed you."

"I-I missed you, too."

"Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"I'm on the run, England. I had to hide from you! Being in London can put you in a very dangerous situation, and they could hurt you!" America whispers.

"You don't always have to be the hero."

"This isn't about being everyone's hero. I want to be your hero."

"Then... then I'll go on the run with you!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I'll dye my hair and wear contacts and everything," England gestures to his hair, "I've missed you, and I don't want to loose you again."

"England..."

"Oh, come on!"

"Why are you doing all of this all of sudden?"

England blushes and looks away. "N-no reason!"

"Okay... Well, if you're traveling with me now, we're heading to Belarus first."

"Why Belarus?"

"W-well..."

"Hm?"

"I-I told Spain I would meet him there for a day or two..." Jealousy boils up inside England as America continues, "I told him to bring you, too. Did he tell you? Ah! That must be why you're on the train, right? I really missed you guys!"

"Y-yeah... He told me." England lies.

"Great! You two are my favorite guys!" He smiles.

"A-are you guys... dating?"

America blushes. "Well... Um... I-I guess... I mean, I like him a lot."

"Do you... love him?"

"Love is a really strong word, Iggy. But I don't think so. It won't get far. He likes to jump around, and I'm kinda looking for a long term thing... I was, um, kinda gonna break up with him today..."

England hides a grin, happy that he beat Spain, _and_ America is now available. _Why would America date you? You're nothing like Spain. _England's thoughts drag him down, making his grin dissipate. He sighs, thinking back to something that, before was not important, but now, makes him very disappointed.

Flashback

_"Man, look at that girl Iggy!" America says under his breath, watching a girl who looks to be about 17 walking hood is over her head, brown hair falling down the front of her shirt down to her belt where loops of chains hang. She nods her head to the beat as she walks past them. England stares at the rips on her shirt, which expose most of he stomach. America wolf whistles, and she turns to him with a smirk. She takes the headphone out of her ear and walks over to the young man, whose blue eyes are now sparkling. She grabs his tie and pulls him very close. _

_"Here's my number." She whispers, handing him a card that she got from her pocket._

_He smiles, but then asks why she just has cards with number on them randomly._

_"I work at a sky-diving place, helping people learn the safety precautions, but that's the best way to get a hold of me."_

_"So... Do you skydive a lot, then?"_

_"Of course." She then lets his tie go, sticks the headphone back in her ear, and walks away with a wink. _

_"She skydives!" America says once she's out of earshot._

_"Yeah?"_

_"I love skydiving! She's fun and adventurous! That's what I like in a relationship."_

_England nods. "Of course you do."_

End of Flashback.

"Iggyyyyy? You alive?" America asks, poking the Brit in the stomach.

England looks over at him with a serious expression. "Um... I have a question..."

"Shoot." America says.

"What?"

"You know, shoot. Like, go ahead and shoot me with the question."

England looks at him with a puzzled expression.

"Just ask." America says.

"Well... Um... I was... just wondering... what is your type?"

"Type? Like, how fast I can type? Because I have no idea, but I can type very fast."

"No, no. Like... your type. I mean, what kind of people do you date?"

"Oh! I guess it doesn't really matter all that much. I mean, I mostly date people who are really lively and adventurous, but that's only because nobody who's really quiet and smart really wants to date me. I guess I just want someone who likes me for me, and doesn't want to change me. Who sees who I am, and not who I look like I am. I know everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I really am deeper than you guys think. I like poetry, and am really interested in music. So far though, I've only found one person who can see that I'm more than I appear to be." America turns and looks out the window with a heavy sigh.

England knows who he's talking about. _If only America knew that I know that he's smart. But, I am surprised he likes poetry. _England thinks.

"It's been so long since then. But she's everywhere I turn, and I can't seem to get her out of my head, no matter where I'm going, or what I'm doing. She understood me, and never judged me. She loved me for who I was." America says.

"I don't judge you."

America turns toward him, his other contact gone. England sighs. He loves his eyes. He loves everything about America.

"You don't?"

"Never. You are who you are, and nobody can change that."

"I love you, England." America says, pulling England into a hug. England sighs, knowing America loves him like a father or a brother, not like _that. _Still, he wraps his arms around America.

"Love is a strong word." He repeats America's earlier sentence.

"I mean it. Even when I'm on the run, and in a disguise, you're willing to pretend to be someone else, just to stay with me. You're the best friend I've ever had, and ever will have."

"I love you too, America." England whispers.

Two days later, England is a party-loving red head with bright blue eyes and a wide smile.

"Iggy! I have an idea!" America says, running into the bathroom, his brown hair bobbing as he stumbles clumsily for no apparent reason.

"What?" England asks, looking at him, then back at his reflection.

"Let's pretend to be a couple! Nobody will suspect that! And we'll never be recognized!" America's words slur a little bit at the end.

"W-what!? Are you out of you bloody mind? We- we can't be a couple!" England blushes furiously, looking away. It's not that he doesn't want to be in a relationship with America, it's that he wants to be in a _real_ one with him.

"Why? Don't you think DAT ASS is totally smoking?" He asks, turning to give England a better view of his posterior. _He does have a nice ass, _England admits to himself, as America giges and shakes it a little bit.

"Stop showing me your behind!" England says, truning away as his face turns redder and redder.

"Oh, come on, Iggy..." America's words begin to slur, and he steps forward, his face only inches from England's.

"A-America? Are you okay?"

"You... You're really beautiful..."

"But I'm a man!"

"Okay... Then you're handsome..."

England can smell the beer on his breath.

"You.. You're drunk!"

"I am not! I'm America!" With that, America grabs England's face in his hands and leans his head down, crushing his lips to England's. A jolt of electricity runs through England, but he pulls away. He wants a _real _kiss, too. He sighs.

"England! You don't want to kiss me?"

"America, I love you."

"Huh?"

"I'm in love with you, so don't kiss me when you're drunk. I want something real. Okay?"

"I love you too, Iggy!" America throws his arms around England.

England sighs, and drags America to bed, where he notices more than the legal amount of empty beer bottles on the floor of their hotel room for today, and tomorrow now, because America is going to have a wicked hangover Brit drops Alfred on the bed and pulls the covers over the unconscious man. He shuts off the light, and closes the door after kissing the younger nations' forehead goodnight, a blush spreading across his cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys. Sorry, but this story is being discontinued for now. I will probably start writing it again at a later time, but I have no inspiration for this story! I have major writers block and stuff! I have enjoyed everyone's comments, and thank you all for your support while I continued to write this... Sorry! I really hope I can start this up again sometime, because I know some of you enoyed it!**

**Sorry,**

**-SailorCheesy.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! I know I said this was discontinued, but I figured why not just write a PruCan filler until I can can get my inspiration back! So yeah! Here you guys go! **

Canada sighs and lets the sweet syrupy liquid slide slowly out of the bottle and pool on top of his pancakes. He then cuts off a thick slice of butter and stick it in the middle of his ginormous pile of fluffy pancakes. He takes a bite, but it doesn't bring him the same joy he used to feel from the almost cake-like breakfast he ate every morning to cheer him up.

Ever since that ball his papa invited him to, he can't get Prussia and how they danced together out of his mind. He felt so free, so different tha his normal self, like the Prussian brought out a side of him not even Alfred could. He shoves another giant bite of pancake in his mouth when he hears something clattering to the ground outside of his house..

Prussia was standing outside of a certain someone's door, blushing furiously as Gilbird chirps noisily in his ear and he contemplates whether to knock or not. He clutches the bouquet of flowers tighter in his hand and reaches his hand out until it's barely an inch from the white door, when Gilbird lets out an ear-piercing screech. Prussia lets out a small "Ah!" and stumbles into a flower pot, sending him sprawling backwards into the ground, the flower pot coming down with him.

"Ugh... That was so un-awesome..." He says slowly, rubbing the back of his head.

The door swings open and Canada jumps out with a hockey stick and a bottle of maple syrup, which he quickly smashes onto the other man's snowy white hair. Suddenly, four or five little Gilbird's fly around Prussia's head, blowing kisses to the disoriented man. His red eyes close, and he falls backward onto the ground, the flowers still clutched tightly in his hand. Canada blinks and looks up and down at Prussia, realizing who it is.

"Oh maple!" He cries, rushing over and kneeling beside the unconscious man. He shakes Prussia's shoulders, letting out a string of not-so-nice words. "Prussia?"

The other man doesn't move. Canada sighs and reaches an arm under the snowy haired mans' knees and scoops him up. Prussia's head falls back, and his legs and arms dangle uselessly. Canada walks back into his house and closes the door, unaware of a certain Russian snapping tons of photos to show Germany! And, while he's at it, everyone else!

"Kolkolkol... Prussia will be the laughing stock of the nations..." He says with a cute smile, and hops into his car, preparing to go back home and get the photos developed.

Canada lays Prussia down in his bathroom and pulls of the man's jacket and shirt, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He pushes Gilbert's head into the bathtub and drapes a towel over him. Canada turns the water on and fills a cup with water, then lathers Prussia's now very sticky hair with shampoo. Then, he dumps cup after cup of water onto Prussia, until all of the sweet syrup is out of his hair.

Canada twists the knob until the water has stopped running, and he begins to dry Prussia's hair, which makes it stick up in all directions. Canada giggles and decided to leave it that way. He picks the Prussian up and brings him into his bedroom, where he puts one of his maple leaf T-shirts on him and lays him down on the bed. He quickly shuffles out of the room to put Prussia's maple-syrup-filled jacket and shirt into the washer. Then, he heads into the kitchen and makes a bowl of soup and gets a glass of water. He walks back into his bedroom and quietly-which isn't hard for Canada-sets the bowl and glass on the bedside table.

He then pulls the covers over Prussia, and silently slips out of the room, not noticing the flowers still tightly clutched in Prussia's hand. Canada goes to the living room and opens a book up, only to be too distracted by his thoughts to read. Why was Prussia outside my door? He thinks, and why didn't he knock? And now my flowers are knocked over... Now that I think about it, he was on the ground before I hit him! Oh maple! He must've tripped over my vase.. Canada stands up and walks outside, righting the vase and sweeping away the dirt that has fallen from the pot.

An hour later, Prussia cracks open one eye, only to find himself in a small white room, and in a maple leaf t-shirt. His hair is damp, and he is still clutching the bouquet of multi-colored flowers. He looks around. Gilbird is nowhere to be found. Then, something that smells incredible fills his nostrils, and he looks over to see bowl of still-steaming hot soup on the small white table beside him. He grabs the bowl and drink all the soup, spilling some of it on the bed spread and his own dark jeans. He then gulps down the water, and stands up, somewhat dizzily. He reaches up and feels his head, noting a small bump. He scowls and opens the door to his room.

The sounds of a soft and sweet singing drifts down the stairs and to Gilbert's ears. He cautiously walks up the stairs, enjoying the beautiful voice singing along to the radio. He also hears something frying, and then some flipping as the male voice continues to sing. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he is presented with Canada, who is lightly swaying back and forth to the music, the strings of an apron tied around his waist and his curl sticking out of his blonde hair. Prussia smiles and watches as Canada continues to sing, his back to the white-haired man.

Then the song stops, and Canada turns around to slide some eggs onto a plate, when he sees the Prussian and lets out a scream. The pan goes flying into the air and swiftly comes back down, about to hit the poor Canadians' head, when Prussia grabs his arm and pulls him out of the way. The pan clatters to the ground, and the eggs go flying everywhere around the kitchen, but Canada is too pre-occupied by a pair of lips on his to notice. His are wide with shock as Prussia pulls away and presents Canada with the flowers.

"P-Prussia!" Canada says, looking down at the ground to hide his small smile.

"Ja?" Prussia asks, delicately placing a hand under the smaller man's chin and pushing it up so he can look into those beautiful violet eyes.

"Sorry I smashed maple syrup on your head.." Canada smiles slightly, looking up at him.

Prussia grins. "Feel free to do it again anytime, if you're going to take care of me like this afterwards."

Canada blushes and grabs his collar, something he would never do with anyone else. "Oh, just shut up and kiss me again." He smiles, pushing himself up on his tiptoes and pressing his soft lips to the Prussian's, who wraps an arm around his waist and lifts him off the ground to deepen the kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Poland bursts into Finlands house, squealing like a fangirl finally metting America, and cries out the Finn's name. Finland runs out into the living room and sits down on the couch.

"So? Tell me all about it!" Finland says.

"Like, O.M.G It was perfect!"

"Come, on, come on! What happened?"

"Okay, so, like, the birds wer singing like, a totally beautiful song which like, totally made me happy, and the sun was like, shining so bright..."

There was a light breeze swaying back and forth, as if it was happy that Poland was finally going to tell Lithuania how he feels. The sun shines on his blonde hair and reflects back into the clear blue sky, where puffy white clouds lazily drift around. The green grass brushes Poland's bare feet as he picks all the pink flowers in the feild on his way to Lithuania's house. Whe he is nearing the old white cottage, and the feild ends, he pulls the green ribbon that was hplding his hair in a ponytail out, and ties the stems of the flowers together to form a beautiful, and very pink, bouquet of flowers.

He admires the bunch until he reaches the door. Suddenly, he's very nervous. He can feel a blush spreading across his cheeks as he knocks lightly. The door swings open, and light blue eyes meet his green ones.

"Hello Poland!" Lithunia says with a bright smile, showing all of his perfectly white teeth.

"Uh... H-Hey, Liet... I like, um, brought you these um... flowers.." Poland says, extending an arm and pushing the flowers into Lithuania's chest, looking at the ground.

"H-Huh?!"

"I like, picked these for you, Liet!"

With that, Lithuania grabs Poland's shoulders and-

"And then he like, totally kissed me!" Poland squeals to Finland.

"Really?"

"Yes! He was all like-"

Lithuania crushes his lips to Poland's and pulls him into the house, slamming the door, never parting his lips from the shocked Polish man's. Then, Lithuania says soething that makes Poland's knees weaken:

"I love you, Poland!" The blonde finishes, looking at Finland.

"Oh my god! That's so cute~!"

"Like, I.K.R?!"

Finland grins.


	13. Chapter 13

_March 12, 2012. 3:30 A.M._

America sighs and bends his knees, reaching out to grab his bags. His hands lock around the handle of his two suitcases, and he stands back up, extending the handle out a little more. He glances over at England, who looks like he wants to get out of there as fast as possible, and begins to walk onto the train, which he had bought last-minute-train-tickets for.

They're going to Monaco, a place nobody would think of them to be. They pull their bags into a a small, private first class thing America was sure to rent out for just the two of them. He sets his bags in the far corner of the small room and closes the door, shutting off the lights and closing the curtains. He looks over at England sleepily.

"Iggy?" He asks.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you really want to do this?"

"What?"

"Run and hide with me. We'll never be able to stay anywhere for long. I'm too scared to face them." He sits down on the edge of one of the two identical beds in the room. England sits next to him, and puts an arm America's shoulder.

"What are you hiding from?"

"England... It wouldn't be good to tell you."

"Well, I'm tired of being left in the dark!"

"I know."

"So tell me, you bloody git." England demands.

"Well, they want this book-a spell book, and I can't give it to them."

"Who has it?"

America doesn't speak.

"Who has it, dammit?!" England demands.

"You do," America says, his voice barely a whisper.

"M-Me?"

America sighs. "But you can't give it to them, England. They'll kill you."

"What? Why?"

"Because. They can't have anyone knowing where they got it."

"But you've been hurt so badly!"

"For a reason, England!" America stands up and looks at him with intense blue eyes.

"...Why?" England whispers.

"For you. Because I couldn't stand to find out that your heart had stopped beating, and that they'd find a replacement for you as soon as you'd gone, like you were just the man who represented Britain for a while, and your batteries had gotten low so they'd replaced you, like a broken toy. Like something that doesn't matter. When really, you mean everything to me."

"Why?" England asks again.

"Because... I'm in love with you."

"Y-You are?" England asks, looking up at him.

"So in love I'd willingly sell my soul to the devil for you."

"Hopefully it doesn't come to that." England stands up.

"So, you like, don't love me right?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." England says nonchalantly.

"Oh. Cool, dude. Cool." America leans against the wall casually.

"Do you know if they have tea on this train?"

"Hmmm? I dunno, but I figured you'd want some so I-"

America is abruptly cut off as England slams his hands on either sides of the American's head and crushes his lips to his. America closes his eyes and pulls England closer, kissing him back with everything he has. He's wanted this for too long, needed England for too long, wanted to tell England how he felt for too long, but never had the courage to. England pulls away, breathing heavily and blushing even harder.

"Brought you some." America finishes, opening his eyes.

"Good. Thank you."

"No problem. If you want some, the tea bags are right next to my hamburgers in the blue suitcase." America grins cheekily.

"You brought hamburgers?"

"Problem?"

"You going to get fat, and then I'll have to push you and your fat arse around in a bloody wheelchair!"

"Aw, Iggy~ You'd push me in it?"

"Oh, shut up!"

"England loooves me~!"

"I'm pretty sure we just established that."

"Care to establish it again?"

"Gladly." England smiles as America pulls him in again.

**Hello Everyone~! So, I know this chapter is short, but hey! At least I finally wrote an ACTUAL chapter for it! I hope you like it, I'll write again soon, hopefully~**


	14. Chapter 14

England groggily shakes off the events of yesterday's dream. Had he seriously dreamt that him and America had kissed? And America had confessed his love for him? England hits head to shake it off.

"Stupid! Stupid!" He mutters.

He glances around the small room. America isn't even there.

_Probably out to get some coffee or something from the snack cart.._

He stands up and pulls a crurtain around, then pushes his bed into the wall and begins to get dressed. He goes into the bathroom. His reflection startles him. He's a totally differnet person... On the run... But, it's with the one person who makes him smile, even on his darkest days. Even if that person doesn't know it.

The door slides open, and America walks on just as England finsishes brushing his teeth.

"Iggy pie~ I brought us some muffins and some chocolate milk~ You like banana muffins, right?"

_Did he... Call me Iggy pie? No, I must have imagined it._

"Yeah, that's fine." England says, walking out of the small bathroom.

America bites into his muffin and flops down in one of the train seats, then hands England's his.

"Thanks." England mumbles, biting into his.

"No problem Iggy~!" America chimes.

"You seem a little happy today, considering we're..."

"Well, now I have you." America winks.

_Oh my god, that did not just... Did he... Did he mean it?_

"Uh..." England mumbles, turning pink.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah! Hahahah, fine! Just bloody fine..."

"Okay...?"

"So, um, how are you...?"

"Oh, good."

"Good, good"

'You?"

"I'm fine, great, actually." England smiles at him lovingly.

America looks up at him. "Hmmmm?"

"B-Because of this muffin! It's just so delicious!" England shoves his face into the muffin and mentally slaps himself. When he pulls back up, America is standing in front of him with a grin.

"You have a little muffin there, love." He says in a mock British accent, wiping away the muffing bits and leaning a little closer.

"Um... Thanks."

"No problem..." America leans in and kisses a shocked England.

_Is... Is this a dream inside a dream?_

England pulls away. "W-Will you... P-Pinch me?"

"Sure." America smirks and pinches him, "It's real. I'm real, and really, truly, in love with you." He smiles, and England leans in, and kisses him back.

America scoops England up in his arms, laughing happily and holding both of their bags.

"Put me down you bloody git!" England yells as America laughs and drags him off the train. He rents a car nearby, at they find a remote house in the country, that seems to be abandoned.

"It's perfect!" America says happily as they walk up to it.

"It's dirty! And looks horrible!" England protests.

"We can fix it up, nobody's here to stop us. We'll make this house look great! Monaco is a great place, nobody will suspect us to be here, and we can let our natural hair color come back! And take these stupid contacts out! And I really need my glasses, because I can barely see you right now dude!"

"That explains why you think this house is perfect."

"You're so grumpy, Iggy!"

"Well, maybe it's because you're extremley annoying when you don't get enough sleep!"

"I think _you're_ the one who didn't get enough sleep! You're crabby as hell!"

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"I am not engaging in such a childish argument for another minute, you bloody idiot!"

"Woah, dude! Take a nap!"

"Hell will freeze over before I take orders from you!"

"Aw~ Come on, Iggy. I just want what's best for you. Isn't that something couples do for each other?"

"I suppose so... But I don't need a bloody nap!"

America chuckles, "Let's go inside, my mint bunny~"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Don't call me such a ridiculous nickname!"

"Aw, you know you love it~!"

"I hate it you jerk!"

"Don't build walls up, Iggy!"

"Stop calling me that infernal nickname, god dammit!"

"Okay, Artie!" America says cheekily, walking into the kitchen and surveying the cracked floors, bare walls, and dusty counter tops.

"Look! There's a bar! When we get this place fixed up, we can have parties," America starts. England sighs. All America ever thinks about is partying, "and all of our kids will play outside, while we're inside laughing and hanging around with francey pants, commie, and panda boy! We'll be a family! I can teach them how to play baseball, and have tea parties! Then," America puts an arm over England' shoulders and smiles at the ceiling, "When they get older, they'll be so smart, and so independent... They'll get into college and do big, big things. And we'll be proud. So, so proud." He looks down, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine. Just thinking about the states. I miss them so much..." He sighs, turning over and burying his face in the side of England's neck.

"It's okay... Eventually, we'll go back to them. And they'll all be so happy to see their dad."

"Thanks."

"Did you really think about all of that stuff?"

"Sometimes. I was kind of just remembering the states. I taught them all everything I know, everything you had passed onto me... I gave them each one of the wooden toy soldiers you had given to me as a kid." He smiles.

"You still had those?"

"For a long time... But then Wisconsin took an interest in them, so I gave her one, and figured, why not give everybody one? So I did, and there was still one left for me! They all loved them, by the way!"

"That's good..."

"Maybe, one day they can pass them down to the capitals! They're so cute, those capitals."

"Yeah..."

"Man, I want a burger!"

"Mhmm..."

"England?" America says, looking down at England, who is slumped against him, fast asleep. "Told you." America whispers, picking England up and setting him on the old couch in the corner of the room. He lays a blanket he had brought over England, and then smiles.

"You're cute when you sleep." He mumbles, starting to tidy up for when England awoke.


	15. Chapter 15

When England wakes, the house is extraordinarily clean. He stands up and walks over to the kitchen, surprised to see it has been completely re-modeled into a sleek, modern, and very un-dusty room, with all of the appliances he could have ever dreamed of. He turns back around and notices that, somehow, so has the living room. Even the couch he was sleeping on is different now! He cautiously looks around, and notices that America is nowhere to be found. He walks into the next room, which turns out to be the dining room. There's a note laying on a brand-new wooden table.

_Left to get groceries, be back soon. Love you, 'Merica._ England smiles, sets the note down, and looks around.

The dining room is different, too. Soon, he finds himself looking in all the rooms and discovering them all to be completely remodeled!

Soon, he's on the second floor, and the last room at the end of a long hallway. America must have expanded the place, too! England is most surprised when he opens the door to this room, that he lets out a small gasp. The walls are a deep shade of red, that matches the color of the plush carpet that covers the floor. In the middle is a bed, covered by a red curtain. He moves closer, trying not to step on the artificial rose petals that cover the floor. When he pulls back the curtain, however, it's not a bed at all, but an empty space, with a small white platform with an 'X' on it. The curtain is supported by circular rods, that have fake green vines covered in roses wrapped around them.

England curiously steps onto the platform. He waits a few seconds. Nothing happens. He's about to step off, when it starts moving slowly down. He looks around as it descends downward, but can only see darkness. Soon, he's all the way down, and there is only darkness to keep him company. The smell of roses swirls around him.

"What the bloody hell is this?" He says angrily, too afraid to step off the platform. A second later, it touches the ground, and pink light suddenly floods the room, revealing a couples paradise even better than above. He steps off, blushing heavily as he looks around.

_How did America do all of this? _He wonders.

This time, there actually is a bed in the middle of the room. A hot tub sits in one corner, and paper hearts and strung all along the ceiling, along with pink lights. There's yet another door, which England walks over to opens up. Inside is a simple wine cellar. He smiles.

"How the bloody hell did he do this?!" England says loudly, walking back into the other room.

"I'm the hero. I can do anything." America says. England jumps.

"Ahhh! Bloody hell, when did you get here?"

"About five minutes ago. Groceries are in the fridge."

"What?"

"Come here." America says, unbuttoning his shirt.

As if in a trance, England moves closer to America, starting to unbutton his as well. England leans closer and America begins to take his belt off.

"I'm going to rock you senseless." America whispers. England smirks and-

"HOLY SHIT!" England screams falling off the couch and face-planting into the wooden floor.

America rushes over to him, "England!"

The British man rubs his head, blushing furiously.

"What happened?" America asks, leaning over him with a concerned expression.

"I-I... Just a bad dream is all." England says.

"Oh." America reaches out and pulls England to his feet, then grabs the blanket and wraps England in it. "Why don't you get some more sleep, huh? Or are you hungry? Do you wanna do something?"

"What's all this? I don't remember you being so considerate."

"I just want you to be happy." America whispers, walking into the kitchen, which hasn't been magically repaired.

"I'll always be happy with you, America." England says with a small smile.

America whips around so suddenly England doesn't have time to react before America's lunged at the Brit and pinned him to a wall, kissing him. England closes his eyes and pushes himself up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around America's neck. Well, tries to. He's forgotten how tall America has gotten. So, America grabs England's arms and pulls them the rest of the way up. England's feet leave the floor completely, and America wraps his arms around his waist to keep him from slipping.

The kiss ends all too soon for England. America sets England on the floor and turns around. "I made dinner." He says, walking into the dining where two plates full of now cold food are crammed onto the table, along with countless bags full of groceries.

"I love you, Iggy." America says.

"I love you too." England replies.


	16. Chapter 16

_March 18, 2012. 2:40 A.M._

America tosses and turns, whipping wildly around in his bed, his legs entangled in his sheets and his hair matted to his head, only one hair sticking up. Beads of sweat slide down his smooth skin, and he cries out England's name in his sleep.

_The blonde clutches the wound in his chest and falls to his knees in front of the other wide-eyed man. _

_"England!" America cries, dropping to his knees in front of the weak man, tears already spilling out of his eyes. "No! Who did this?"_

_"A...America... I... Love you..." England says._

_America shakes the Brit's shoulders. Pain laces his voice, "England! No! You can't leave me! Please!" _

_"Good... Bye...'_

_"NO! Don't say that!" _

_England stares at America with glassy, unblinking eyes, and becomes limp, only held upright by the American's bone-crushing grip on his shoulders. His hand slips from his wound and falls to the ground. His breathing stops. _

_"NO! NO!" America screams, clutching the dead man and sobbing uncontrollably. _

_Suddenly pieces of the floor crumble, then fall into a dark, black abyss. America knows this is because his world is falling apart, it makes sense it would all disappear, England was the only thing holding him together, keeping him from sinking. And now, he was gone. There was no reason for America to live anymore. He lets go of England, stands up, and jumps into the abyss. _

_Darkness surrounds him immediately. Pieces of the floor fall around him. America falls and falls, his tears flying up ahead of him. An invisible hand is choking him. He's dying without England. _

_And then, a soothing voice echoes throughout the dark, endless nothingness. "America." The perfect voice says. "America, wake up." _

_"England!" America cries. _

"Wake up!" Someone shakes him, and America's eyelids fly open. He stares at England with terror, then crumples onto his bed in a fit of sobs.

England blinks, shocked. America _never _showed weakness to anybody, let alone him, and he _never _cried. It was on his list of un-manly things, after all. England sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls America's head into his lap.

"Shhhh." England whispers, stroking the American's hair.

"I thought-_hic-_you were-_hic-_going to-_hic-_die!" The America whimpers.

England stops. All this because a nightmare about him? America, _the fearless hero America,_ was crying over his death in a dream?

"Promise you'll never leave me?" America asks in between sniffles.

"I'm right here, America, and I'll _never_ let you go again." England replies, bending over and pulling the much bigger man into him.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Forever and ever."

England holds America close and rocks back and forth slowly. America soon falls asleep in England's warm embrace.

_March 18, 2012. 9:20 P.M._

America sets two plates of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, biscuits, and green beans on the table, then slides two glasses of orange soda next to the plates. He opens a drawer and pulls out two forks, spoons, and knives, then napkins. He smiles. He hopes he'll have to make dinner for two every night.

"Dinner's served!" America yells, and England walks in.

"You don't have to yell like that, you git! I almost lost my page!" England holds up a book, his many eyebrows furrowing.

"Shut up and sit down. I made dinner, you ungrateful brat!" America says with a grin, plopping down into his own chair and shoveling forkfuls of food into his black hole of a mouth.

England lowers himself into his chair and stares at the American with a look of disgust.

"You eat like a pig!" He says.

"Swfo?" America's voice is muffled by mouthfuls of food.

"Americans." England rolls his bright green orbs and takes a small bite of the chicken. He nods, "It's good."

"Thanks Iggy!" America grins and takes a slightly smaller bite.

"You're welcome." England mumbles with a slight frown, taking another bite.

Dinner is spent in silence, besides a little light chat, and when they're finished, America leans back in his chair and smiles. He pushes it backwards on his heels, and the front legs hover above the ground. He smiles.

"America, that's dangerous!" England says.

He says it a little too late, for America has just fallen backward onto the floor with a loud SMACK!

"Owwwwww!" America whines, standing up and then picking the chair up.

England sighs, "Stupid American," and picks up the dishes. He then brings them into the kitchen and begins washing them. He hears the blue eyed nation leave the room and enter his own. England puts the dishes in the sink and walks into America's room without knocking.

His eyes widen. America is in the process of unbuttoning his pants, his bomber jacket and t-shirt already thrown aside. England blushes furiously as America turns around, his pants falling to the ground and revealing his American flag boxer shorts.

"Oh, hey England." America says, pulling his ankles out of his pants and walking towards an old wardrobe that was still sitting in the small room when they arrived.

England suddenly has the urge to pin the taller nation down and... No. He can't be having these thoughts. It was way to early in their relationship to be thinking thoughts like that! Even so, he finds himself walking toward the American, who, at the moment, is about to put a pajama shirt on.

"Going to bed so early?" England asks, blushing harder.

"No. I was just gonna get my pajamas on and then hang out in the-" America is interrupted as England grabs his wrists and pushes him into a wall, kissing him feverishly.

America stays still for a second before granting England access to his mouth. England releases America's hands, and they immediately wrap themselves around his waist, effectively pulling them closer. America pushes them off the wall, and England kicks himself up, wrapping his legs around the American's waist. America falls backward onto his bed and starts to inch England's vest off of him, their lips never breaking apart.

Once the vest is off, America starts working on the buttons of England's shirt.

"Onhonhon~ Care to make this a threesome?" A voice asks, making America and England jump apart immediately.

"Damn." America mumbles.

"GAH! How long have you been here?!" England exclaims, turning crimson and frantically trying to button his shirt back up. America reaches over and grabs the long forgotten pajama shirt, then pulls it over his head.

"Quite a while~ My dearest Monaco said she felt the presence of other nations in her country, and everyone has been worried sick since you two went missing~" France smiles, "From what I saw, you are a very good kisser, Angleterre."

"Shut up you bloody frog! Get out of this room now!" England says, turning even redder, which America didn't think was possible.

"Yeah, dude, why interrupt? You're like, the country of love, and England and I were about to make some serious love, here." America says, his mouth turning down into what England thinks is a very sexy pout.

"I just wanted to check on you two. It's been weeks since anyone's seen you."

"So what?" England says, scowling at the Frenchman in the doorway.

"So, why are you hiding out in Monaco?"

"Do any of the others know we're here?" America asks, suddenly serious.

"Yes, I told Spain and Prussia I was coming here to get you."

"Shit!" America says.

"Hmmm?"

"Aw, fuck!" America says angrily, grabbing a suitcase from his closet and shoving clothes in it, then pulling on his pants. England grabs his vest and pulls it on.

"What are you doing?" France asks.

"Can you take England back? I gotta get the hell out of here before it's too late." America says, running a hand through his hair.

"What?! I'm coming with you!" England immediately objects.

"Nope, you can't. Damn, see how risky this is? We've already been found, and you could be in so much danger if you come along."

"No! I'm not letting you go alone! You can't always be the hero!"

"Why are you always so difficult?!"

"Because I love you, idiot!" England yells.

"I LOVE YOU TOO!" America yells back.

"Uh..." France says.

"Damn you! What the hell am I gonna do if you're out there getting all in danger and shit!" America says, pulling out some red hair dye.

"I WON'T!" England yells.

"Helloooo?" France says.

America throws some brown hair dye at the British man, "Dye your fucking hair!" He yells.

"FINE!" England storms into the bathroom, and America flops down on his bed.

"Get out, Francey-pants." He says.

"Why?"

"Because I'm upset and I don't want to use you as my punching bag! Hurry up and leave!"

"Why were you shouting at Angleterre?"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE HIM, NOW GO!" America yells, standing up.

France hurriedly dashes out of the room. America hears the front door slam. He opens the door to the bathroom and steps in.

England is massaging the brown dye into his hair, making sure to get it all.

"I'm sorry I yelled, England. You're just so damn stubborn." America says, opening the box of red dye.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Go with France and be safe! Have a family or some shit!"

"I don't want a family without you!"

"Me neither!"

"Then why are you so damn upset?!"

"Because you can't have a family with me, stupid! I have to be out here running until they stop wanting your damn spell book!"

"Then why can't we just give it to them?!"

"Because then who the hell knows what they'll do with it?" America yells.

"Who cares?"

"I do! What if they use it for something horrible?"

"Then let's just attack them!"

"You know I can't do that! They have like a gazillion people on their side, and you and I can't take them all down!'

"Then get the main people! The entire thing will fall apart." Says England.

"I don't know who the fuck they are!" America says, working the dye into his hair.

"Stop using such foul language!"

"Sorry!"

"Why is everything always so damn complicated?" England sighs.

"Hypocrite." America mumbles, kissing England's cheek.

"Where are we going now?"

"Why don't you pick, England?" America smiles softly.

"I love you." England smiles.

"I love you more." America says.

**I'm sorryyyyyyy! I know it's been a while since my last update! One word: Drama. Friend drama, family drama, school drama, and homework. I've been quite the busy person as of late. But I HAD to update this, because I really do love this story, even if I really HATE UKUS. Shoot me. Anyway, please enjoy! I don't really know what was up with all the yelling, but I like the way this cha[ter turned out. What did you think of their ALMOST sexy time? I think I could've done a lot better on that part, but I'm no good when it comes to that stuff. Sorry. I'll try to update more frequently.**


	17. Chapter 17

America runs forward, leaps, and a second later, lands on the hard metal floor of a train car. England starts throwig their bags, which America catches. And then, England runs and jumps after the American and... falls. He screams, he knows he's dead now as he seems to fall onto the track in slow motion. And then a pair of arms grab him and yank him up into the train car.

"We are NEVER doing that again." America says.

"Good god! That was... exhilirating!" England says with a grin.

"Are you serious?"

"We HAVE to do someting like that again!"

"Oh, please tell me you're not going to become one of those thrill seekers!"

"You jumped off the bloody London Eye and you tell me I can't jump on to a train?" England argues.

"That's different!"

"How?"

"You could've gotten hurt!"

"You could've gotten hurt too!"

"It's different because I don't care what happens to me! I do care what happens to you." America says.

"Well... Well...!"

England doesn't know what to say.

"Promise me you won't do dangerous things anymore?" America says, looking at England's green orbs.

_Damn, he's_ _giving me the eyes. _"I promise." England mutters.

"Thank you, love." America smiles and uses a fake British accent.

"You're welcome, dude." England puts on his best American accent.

"Aw, you're cute when you try to use an American accent."

"Mmmm... I know." England smiles and leans into the American and yawns.

America smiles and taps the Englishman's nose.

"Alfred Jones, how many times have I told you I _hate _that?"

"2,321 times."

"And yet you _still _don't get it!"

"And I never will~" America taps his nose.

England looks upward into the American's face, studying his beautiful blue eyes, the way his glasses fit perfectly on his narrow face. He loved the way his milky white skin seemed to glow, and how much the slight red blush on his cheeks always contrasted it. And those little freckles, hardly visible at all on his face. His silky, sandy blonde hair, and that one little strand that always stuck out from the rest.

England suddenly has the impulse to reach out and touch it, and finds himself playing with America's hair, secretly working his way toward it. America looks down at him.

"What are you-" America moans as England tugs it lightly.

"Hm?"

"Stop..." America protests, leaning closer.

"Why? Does it bother you?"

"Ah... Yes..."

"It sure doesn't seem like it." England says with a smile.

"Ahh..." America suddenly reaches out and starts to tickle England, who immediately lets go and starts laughing his head off.

"A-Alfred J-Jones! AHAHAHA!"

America grins and laughs.

"S-STOP AHAHA!" England rolls away, kicking and swatting at his partner's hands.

"Alright, Alright!" America says, raising his hands above his head.

England smiles. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked it when America tickled him, and he hadn't seen America so cheerful in quite a while. England studies America more. The way his bomber jacket fit him perfectly... How had he never noticed until a few months ago? Or... Hadn't he?

He realizes he had been paying close attention to the American. How else could he know all those things about the young man? Sure, he had raised him, but he was much different when he was when he was younger... _Much_ more mature when he was younger. Then all that technology and video games and anime crap came along, and America turned into one of those stupid twelve-year-old gamer boys. And the anime... England wasn't even going to get started on the American's obsession for _Sailor Moon._

England realizes he had been deep in thought, and had not bothered to look at the American, who was now sitting in the corner, blue headphones in his ears and his eyes closed. Just as England is about to say something, America starts reciting... Poetry?

_"Mans life is laid in the loom of time_

_To a pattern he does not see, _

_While the weavers work and shuttles fly_

_Till the dawn of eternity."_

England closes his eyes, listening as America's silky voice flows through the words of the beautiful poetry.

_"Some shuttles are filled with silver threads_

_And some with threads of gold, _

_While often but the darker hues _

_Are all that they may hold." _

The Brit leans against a wall. He didn't know the American was capable of hearing something so deep.

_"But the weaver watches with a skillful eye_

_Each shuttle to and fro, _

_And sees the pattern so deflty wrought_

_As the loom moves sure and slow."_

England finds America's voice s almost hypnotizing... Almost...

_"God surely planned the pattern:_

_Each thread, the dark and fair. _

_Is chosen by His master skill_

_And placed in the web with care." _

Nope, not almost... It _is_ hypnotizing. The bumping of the train car slowly fades away. _Everything _fades away, until only America's voice is left, strong and steady.

_"He only knows its beauty, _

_And guides the shuttles which hold_

_The threads so unattractive, _

_As well as the threads of gold." _

England smiles. America is his thread of gold, and those damn people who keep hurting him are the unattractive ones.

_"Not till each the loom is silent, _

_And the shuttles cease to fly. _

_Shall God reveal the pattern_

_And explain the reason why" _

England hopes that's soon. He wants to know why, if there really is a god, he's letting tis happen to such a pure person. America must be the purest of them all, right? Right. England is sure.

_"The dark threads were as needful _

_In the weaver's skillful hand_

_As the threads of gold and silver_

_For the patterns which He planned."_

America sighs and takes the headphones out of his ears. England opens his eyes and smiles.

"That was _extraordinary._" He says to America.

"I love it. My favorite piece. '_The Loom of Time_.' The author is unknown."

"It's beautiful."

"I know."

"Nobody gives you credit. They all think you're an idiot."

"I know."

"Are you really an idiot, though?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"You're not. Everyone else is."

"I wouldn't be so sure." America smiles.

**Uh... This? I don't know. Just a something. Sorry it's boring. Some REAL action will be coming soon, I promise! Anyhoo, vote on my poll! This story is coming to a close, and I want your opinion on a new one! So, I have like ten options or something on stories. And... Yeah! A lot of them are centered on America, because, I mean, I LOVE America. He's just so... I dunno, cute? I FINISHED SHERLOCK ASDFGHJKL; SO MANY FEELS. I HAD THREE CUPS OFF COFFEE WILE I WAS WATCHING AND-"Oh, shut up! They don't want to hear about your dumb rants!" Right. You don't. Bye~ P.S. I was think of writing a 'Sherlock' story... How many would read it-"SHUT UP!" Okay, okay!**


	18. Chapter 18

_March 21, 2012. Midnight. _

America jumps off the train first. Like before, England throws the bags off, then hurtles himself over the edge. America catches him, and they run.

"Go go go!" America cries as three men in masks jump off the train and chase after them.

"Bloody hell!" England screams, pushing himself forward as fast as his legs will take him. America gets ahead of him quickly anyways, and ends up just grabbing the Brit and throwing him over his shoulder.

"Fucking shit they're gaining on us!" America says, glancing behind him.

He sees a building ahead of him and pushes himself into it, three masked figures right behind him. One of them reaches out and touches a wisp of his hair before it dissapears around the corner of a wide hallway. They all run around in the corner as the blue-eyed nation throws England into a room with the bags. The door says 'CAUTION: LOCKS FROM OUTSIDE ONCE CLOSED'. America's about to go in when someone grabs his collar and pulls him backwards.

"America!" England cries.

"Lock the door!" America screams.

Tears pool in the Brit's eyes. "No! I won't go anywhere without you!"

"UGH!" America screams, kicking one of the men away from him, "England DO IT!"

"I can't just leave you!"

"I WANT YOU TO!" America screams as the one he kicked gets a hold of his arm and presses it to his back.

England is about to jump out when America kicks forward making the door slam shut, and lock from the outside. He hears fists pounding on the door. At least now England can't follow him now.

"Mistake number one!" America says, pulling his arms out of his jacket he uppercuts one in the jaw and shoves the other one backwards into a shelf with a flower pot on it, which smashes over his head. He then grabs his jacket, and someone grabs him from behind.

"Mistake number one." A Spanish accent says.

"Shit." America mutters as the man, whom America now realizes is Spain, pins both his hands behind his back. The flower pot man, whose hair is wet, quickly gags the American and shoves him to the floor, putting his foot on the America's back to ensure he's pinned.

The third man reaches into all of America's pocket. "He only has his phone." He says.

"Good~ Take him away!"

"Should we get the guy in there?" The wat-haired man says, cocking his head toward the door, where England is still pounding and screaming.

"No, let him scream." Spain says.

_March 22, 2012. 4:00._

England walks into the meeting room purposefully, staring at the nations around him with determination.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!" He yells, jumping onto one of the tables. Everyone turns and stares at him.

"Anglettere?" France asks.

"America has been kidnapped!" He says.

"What?!" Lithuania cries, immediately stepping out from behind Russia, his blue eyes wide with horror.

"By a bunch of masked men! They want something from him, and they'll do anything to get it! I've managed to discover his location, and I'm going to get him. Now. Anyone who wants to come, come now!"

"We have to get him!" Lithuania says, reaching into his sweater he pulls out a small knife and jumps onto the table, "I'm coming!" He says.

Italy suddenly has a very straight face, and he reaches into his pockets and pulls out a small handgun and two knives.

"Italy?!" Germany and Romano both say, gaping at the small man.

"I'm coming, too!" The Italian says, jumping onto the table and looking around with a serious frown and a glint of determination in his eyes.

"I'll probably be of some assistance." Japan says, pulling a long samurai sword from a sheath at his side and looking at it for a second before joining them on the table.

"I'm coming." Lichtenstein says.

"It's too dangerous! I refuse to let you go!" Switzerland says.

"Shut up, bruder." Lichtenstein pulls off her pink dress, revealing a black vast with an array of weapons, black jeans and lace-up black boots. She pulls a bow from her hair, revealing it's long and flows down her back until it's just above her knees. America would have told her she looked badass. Everyone stares as she climbs onto the table.

"Sister?!" Switzerland gapes at her as he climbs onto the table, along with Germany, Russia, Poland, Estonia, Latvia, Ukraine, and Belarus.

"I'm coming!" A small voice says. Finland. He removes his hat, revealing a small gun, then opens up his coat, revealing rows of knives.

"What the hell?!" Denmark exclaims, following Finland up onto the table with his axe over his shoulder. Sweden, Norway, and Iceland silently follow.

Hungary jumps up with her frying pan, Austria and Prussia with swords, France with a gun, Romano who somehow has an axe, North and South Korea with guns, Taiwan and Veitnam with bows somehow, China with a bunch of needles dipped in poision, Canada, who has several guns, kives, and explosives on him, and Seychelles, who somehow keeps poisonous darts in her hair.

France had almost fainted, seeing his two childern, Seychelles and Canada looking so dangerous, and having so many weapons on them.

England charges out of the room, pulling a gun out of his own pocket, along with four throwing knives. He leads them through a bunch of passageways, alleys, along the roofs of buildings, through trap doors and out of twon until they reach an underground tunnel.

"Okay, everyone, get in groups of three. Those are your fighting buddies. Stick with them." He orders.

Hungary, Austria and Prussia make up the first group. Germany, Italy, and Japan the second. Romano, Denmark and Norway the third. Finland, Sweden, and Iceland. Russia, Lithuania, and Belarus. Latvia, Estonia, and Ukraine. South Korea, North Korea, and China. Taiwan, Veitnam and Seychelles. And Canada, France, and England.

They walk down the tunnel in a giant group, and then, they reach the door. England looks back at all the people who so willingly put themselves in danger for the love his life, and kicks down the door.

**Hiya! It's me again! Sorry if this chapter is badly written... PLEASE TAKE MY POLL! :D I have some votes and stuff, but PLEASE, I want gazillions of votes! XD Nah, but really, please take it! This chapter was sort of a cliffhanger...? **


	19. Chapter 19

_March 22, 2012. 5:00_

As soon as the door falls, all hell breaks loose. Someone immediately charges after Liechtenstein, the seemingly most harmless girl ever, even with all the weapons on her.

"Mistake!" She says, grabbing a knife from her back pocket and throwing at him with an expert hand. It flies through the air and embeds itself in the man's stomach, who falls to the ground.

"Split up and find him! As soon as you do, get him out of the building! He'll most likely be unconscious!" England says, facing all of the nations.

Everyone looks at each other, then back at England. Hungary nods, raising her frying pan, she jumps forward and hits another oncoming attacker over the head.

Italy charges forward, going for the nearest door. Japan and Germany follow him a few paces behind. Another masked man jumps in front of the German and slices a gash in his arm that immediately spills crimson.

"Don't. Touch. Him." Italy says maliciously, throwing a knife into the mans back and then ramming into the door with his shoulder. Germany gapes.

"Germany-san, let's go!" Japan says calmly, raising his sword.

Taiwan, Seychelles, and Vietnam run down another dark hallway along with Belarus, Russia, and Lithuania, straight into a group of the men, who seem to be coming from everywhere. About ten guards are after Russia as soon as they see him. The silver-haired man swings his pipe, which slams into four heads. He kicks another one in the stomach, sending him flying backwards at the same time he uppercuts another one. Belarus comes up behind one of them and kicks where the sun doesn't shine.

Both Taiwan and Vietnam are firing arrows wildly, all while Lithuania is throwing knives and dodging punches this way and that. And then, one sticks a landing in his gut and he doubles over.

Taiwan quickly lets loose an arrow that finds its mark in the attackers neck. Belarus grabs the collar of Lithuania's shirt and pulls him to his feet.

Hungary, Austria, and Prussia are surrounded by the masked men, backs pressed one another's. Hungary wears a determined smirk and her green eyes glitter with the excitement of the oncoming battle, while Austria and Prussia are close to writing out their will.

"I love you, Hungary." Austria says.

"Tell Mattie I love him!" Prussia says.

"You guys are pussies. We're going to live, alright?" Hungary says as the men charge at them.

She slams her pan over one of their heads and knees another in the stomach. Prussia just kind of swings his sword around and slices people up. Austria gracefully jabs people, trying to get as little blood on his jacket as possible.

Latvia, and Estonia are holding hands and throwing knives back-to-back while Romano stands in front of Ukraine and protects her with an axe. "Um, in case we don't live, I... I really like you." Romano says to her as he practically slices a man in half. Ukraine smiles and turns around just in time to kick a masked man's legs out from under him. Denmark, who also has an axe, is busy trying to kiss Norway as much as possible while still killing people.

South and North Korea and China are all scaling the ceiling, which none of the masked man are bothering to look up at, while Finland, Sweden, and Iceland attack from the ground, throwing knives, punches, kicking, Finland even sends Hamatago out to bite people.

And then there's England, France, and Canada. They've found a hallway seemingly empty of people. France is about to step into it when Canada raises his arm and stops him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sort of powder, which he blows out, revealing bright red lasers.

"Mathieu! Why do you have that!?" France asks with a shocked expression.

"No reason, papa." Canada replies innocently, stepping over the first laser. England and France follow slowly and clumsily, whereas Canada jumps through the lasers with great agility and balance, and is at the other side a full five minutes before them.

"Where did you learn to do that?!" France asks when they reach the other side.

"Nowhere, papa." Canada replies.

"You're grounded for knowing these things!"

"You can't ground me. I'm an adult." Canada replies nonchalantly.

"Who has taught you to behave like this?!" France says, stunned.

"Shush! Someone's going to hear!" Canada says in his usual whisper of a voice.

France turns to England, horrified. "He just-He shushed me!"

England shrugs.

And then they're at the first door.

"Hold on. I can pick the lock." Canada says.

The Frenchman's eyes widen, and he falls backward. Canada reaches backward, seemingly knowing that was going to happen, and grabs his jacket before he falls.

"Get over it, papa." He says, opening the door. He peers inside. "Nobody."

And so, they keep moving on until they're at the last door. England presses his ear against it.

"They should be coming soon. Last chance to tell me where it is~" A Spanish accent says.

"Spain," England whispers, "America and Spain are in there."

"Spain?!" France exclaims in a whisper.

"Yes."

"But... But..."

"But nothing, I'm going in." England says, pulling his gun out of his pocket, he breaks down the door.

Spain is holding a bloodied, bruised, and half-unconscious America in front of him like a shield. Blood drips from all over the America, and just standing there is making him weak. England knows immediately that if they don't do something soon, he'll loose too much blood.

"I knew you would be coming for him." Spain says from behind the American, whose eyes are wide with fear.

"Let him go." England says.

"Hmmm... No." Spain says.

"Let him GO!" England brings his gun up, but finds it's only pointing at America's head. _That clever bastard. _

"There's three of us and one of you. Hand him over." Canada says.

"There may be three of you, but you can't touch me without hurting him. He'll probably die soon if his wounds aren't fixed."

And everyone knows it's true. You can see the light leaving America's usually bright blue eyes. America weakly tries to say something, but Spain interrupts.

"Shhhh... It'll all be over soon..." He whispers into America's ear with a smile.

Canada clenches his teeth and wishes Prussia were here. He'd know what to do. Or Russia. Spain would probably hand the American over just seeing Russia.

"Amerique just hold on!" France says. No sooner than the words have left is mouth, America has dropped to his knees, Spain right behind him.

"All you have to do is give it to me, and I'll give you America, si?" Spain says.

England looks at America, who has fallen back against Spain, and his crimson stained clothes, black eyes, scars, cuts, bruises, and inwardly cringes. How could they have possibly done all of this to America in a day? It occurs to him that they probably opened up a lot of previously inflicted wounds.

England winces. This is his fault. If America hadn't fallen in love with him, he would have given the book up right away, and then none of this would be happening. Why had America fallen for him anyway? He was never anything but mean to the American until he realized how he felt. When had America fallen for him?

America makes another attempt at speak, and is again hushed by Spain, murmuring soft words in his ear. "Don't worry, you don't have to beg anymore, death will come soon..." Spain says.

_Has he really begged for death? _England thinks, horrified. _What the hell could they possibly have done to him? _

"Still thinking? Let me give you a little incentive." Spain says, and begins to shake America around violently, making him open his eyes and cry out in pain.

"S-S-Stop!" America cries, tears immediately spring to his eyes. He cringes.

"Not enough?" Spain says, poking his head out from behind America's the tiniest bit and raising his eyebrow, "Okay..." He continues to shake America violently.

"N-No more..." America gasps, crumpling backwards into Spain, "Please..."

"England, wouldn't you like to end his suffering?" Spain asks.

England just squeezes his eyes shut. He promised America he'd never give it to them. But he can't just stand there and watch...

"Okay..." Spain says, he pulls out a knife and presses it to America's cheek. A sharp cry makes England open his eyes. He stares in horror as the knife cuts into America's cheek, drawing blood.

America whimpers like a helpless puppy. England cracks. America has never looked so utterly helpless in his entire life, and it's the most horrible sight England has ever seen.

"Stop!" He says, reaching into a bag on his back and pulling an old brown book out of it.

Spain smiles from behind America. Feeling defeated, England reaches out to hand the book to him.

"No!" Canada cries, snatching the book away.

"Are you bloody mad?! Your bother's going to die!" England cries, frantically trying to take the book back.

Just then, there's a loud BANG.

"NO!" England screams, turning around.

**Um... This? Yeah. I know a lot of you think it was random to have him kidnapped all of a sudden in the last chapter, but in my defense, I had just got done drinking three coffees when I wrote it and... You know, caffiene. I MIGHT post the next chapter later tonight, because I'm pretty sure I have nothing going on! PLEASE TAKE MY POLL! :D If you already have, THANK YOU! **


	20. Chapter 20

England turns around and sees America fall. He drops to his knees and covers his face in his hands. His blonde hair falls over his face and covers the tips of his fingers. The world stops spinning.

"No. No, no, _no_. NO!" He begins to cry.

America is dead. America is _dead_. America is _DEAD_. Gone! And, worst of all, a new representative of America is going to come out, like nothing ever happened! In fact, the new representative is probably already there, waiting to meet all the rest of the nations. The thought sickens him. America is gone, and so they get a new one. Sick. Horrible. Disgusting. Absurd. _Nobody_ can replace his America. There was nobody as perfect, noody as loving, nobody as obnoxious.

Now what was England going to do? He might as well die too. Nothing else mattered. The only person he'd ever fallen in love with in his entire existence was _dead. _Shot, probably lying a pool of his own blood. England couldn't bare to look and find out. The green-eyed man briefly wonders why Spain hasn't said anything, but is too sad to care. It doesn't matter. Nothing does.

He can't even do anything. Someone would find him before he could even try to kill himself. Nobody would leave him alone, now that America was dead. He'd be stuck living on this cursed planet until the god damned British Empire fell to the ground! He hopes that day comes soon.

Although, maybe he could just do it now. While everyone is still in shock he could provoke Spain... Nobody would ever know he _wanted_ it to happen. They'd just think he was so full of rage he had provoked the Spanish nation, and accidentally gotten himself killed. That could work. Yes, and if it didn't, he could just shoot himself. Or jump off the London Eye, like America had once done. Or, even better, the Empire State Building. He could see the wonderful place America had made before he died. After all, he'd seen his own place millions of times. Nobody would ever suspect he was going to kill himself like that.

But first, he'd burn Spain to the ground. All of it. He'd kill the bastard and burn his country to the ground for taking away his love. No, he wouldn't just kill him. England would torture him the way he had tortured America. And then he would kill himself.

"England." France says, interrupting the Brit's destructive thoughts.

"Go away!" England sobs, slapping France's oustetched hand away.

"England!" France says again, his blonde hair falling in front of his face. He tucks the loose strand behind his ear and stares down at England.

"Shut up! Are you blind? He's _dead_!"

"He's not dead!" France says.

England looks up at him. "Wh-What?"

"He's not dead," France says with a gentle smile, "But if you don't help us get him to the hospital, he might be."

England looks over and sees America's chest rising and falling as a silver-haired, violet-eyed nation, Russia, picks him off of Spain's body, which is lying in a pool of crimson liquid. Russia holds a gun in his gloved hand.

"Give him to me!" England says, jumping up and running to Russia.

"Be careful." Russia says, sliding him into England's outstretched arms.

England nods as a batch of fresh tears pool in his eyes and spill over the edges, run down his cheeks, and hit the American's bomber jacket.

"He's not as heavy as you would think, da?" Russia smiles.

"Not at all." England muses, slightly surprised, though he hadn't believed for quite a while that America was fat. He frowns. America's eyes have rings of purple around them, his glasses are shattered, tiny fragments o glass stuck in his skin. England carefully picks them out.

"Let's go." Canada says, taking America's limp hand in his and leading England out, "Don't worry about the lasers, everyone else has either killed those masked guys or arrested them."

England nods, new hope swelling in his heart. They walk as fast as possible without moving the America, whose breathing is gradually becoming more shallow.

"We have to hurry." England says worriedly.

"Just keep walking. We can't rush it, or he'll get hurt worse." France says.

"What if I'm not fast enough?" England says, staring up at France.

"You're doing fine." Russia smiles, "See? The door's right there."

"Hey, why did you save America?" England asks the Russian.

"Well... It's complicated but... Amerika and I... Are best friends." Russia admits, his pale skin turning slightly pink.

"What?" Canada says, jealousy inching into his voice, "But America told me I was his best friend!"

"He called me every time you two moved around and told me where you were headed." Russia says to England, ignoring Canada's comment.

"How long has this been going on?" England asks, staring down at the American in his arms. He cringes, seeing the blood dripping from his wound.

"Since before the Cold War, da?" Russia smiles slyly.

"Why did he never tell anyone?" France asks.

"I wanted it to be a secret." Russia shrugs.

"My god. No wonder he was never scared of you." England says.

"Da..." Russia says.

And then, America cracks one eye open and lets out a tiny, almost inaudible groan.

"America?"

"Ow... Want... Eng..."

"I'm right here." England says softly.

America's head falls back, and his eyes close. England picks up the pace a bit, being extra careful not to step on any bumps on the ground.

"Van't we stop the bleeding somehow?"

"There's too much. Our best chance is to get him to the ambulance."

England nods mutely and walks into the tunnel.

"Shit." He mutters, remembering how many times he had slipped on the slick ground in the tunnel.

"Let me take him again." Russia says gently.

"O.. Okay..." England reluctantly hands the American back to Russia. He takes a step forward, and feels his feet slip out from under him.

"AH!" He cries. Canada grabs his shirt collar and rights him.

"Mathieu, we need to have a talk." France says.

"No." Canada replies, his eyes wandering around the tunnel.

"E-Excuse me?" France says, putting a hand to his hest.

"I said no." Canada repeats.

"You listen to your father!"

"Don't tell me what to do." Canada says boldly.

"Don't you speak to me that way! I am your father and I want to know who did this to my sweet, innocent baby."

"_Fucking Prussia_. Now my dad's gonna be all mad..." Canada mumbles.

"Did you just _curse_?! Mon dieu! My baby has been corrupted by that _demon _Prussia!" France cries.

"Someone said my name?" The albino says, slinging his arm over the Canadians shoulder.

"_YOU_. I'm going to kill you!" France says.

"Why, because I gave birdie some self-confidence?" Prussia smiles and looks at Canada, who smiles back and kisses his cheek.

"Thanks Gil." Canada says.

"Mathieu! I never said you could date!" France says, utterly appalled.

"I don't need your permission! I'm a grown man and I don't take orders from anyone!" Canada says.

"England, could you come here for a second?" Russia says, breaking England away from the conversation. More like soon-to-be-argument.

"Gladly." England says, happy to be away from their bickering, he walks over to Russia.

"His breathing. It's slowing drastically. At this rate, he'll be dead a few minutes after we get out of the tunnel." Russia whispers.

"I won't let that happen." England pulls off his sweater and uses it to wipe some blood away from America's scarred and bruised face. England cringes. Who could hurt such a perfect person?

"I want to run, but I'm afraid it would hurt him." Russia says.

"Well..." England bites the inside of his cheek and tries to keep his voice down. Not that he needs to, the other three are still in a giant argument. More nations start spilling into the tunnel, and England knows if he and Russia don't so something now, the commotion will become too great to do anything but keep walking and hope America doesn't die. "You have my permission to run. I'll be right with you." England finally says.

"Okay." Russia says.

"Be careful." England says.

"I'd die before I let him get hurt any worse." And with that, Russia breaks into a sprint, England right behind him.

They're out of the tunnel in a matter of minutes, the other nations still walking because Canada and France are too busy arguing to tell them America is dying.

"I hear the ambulance." Russia states, his silver hair swaying back andforth and his scarf fanning out behind him.

"Me too." England says, panting.

They reach the end of the roof. This is the part where they had been jumping roof-to-roof. England hadn't expected them to hurt America this bad... England looks up at the taller and stronger nation who is carries his beloved.

"Be careful." He chokes out.

Russia nods, moves backward a few steps, runs, and begins to leap from building to building, England following clumsily behind. As he does so, he thinks about America to calm his nerves. His beautiful golden hair, his bright blue eyes... His pink lips, the light blush he always has... His soft white skin, his perfect glasses and small freckles...

They reach a flight of stairs that lead to the ground. Russia takes America's wrist and checks hi pulse. "His heart is beating slower!" Russia exclaims, now starting to get worried himself.

"Just go!" England yells urgently. And Russia practically flies down the steps, cradling America close and trying not to shake him. They reach the bottom of the stairs and breathe out in relief together.

"Right here!" England yells to a medic, who rushes over with a stretcher. Russia lays the American down on it, and then they're running to the ambulance. England gets in and sits down, watching as the doctors start doing a bunch of stuff that's too hard for the Brit to follow.

He suddenly feels exhausted, he leans back in the cahir next to Russia and sighs. "He really can be a handful sometimes.." Russia smiles.

"...Ouch..." A weak voice says.

England jolts up. "America!"

"S-Stop..." America protests again.

None of the doctors pay any attention to America's weak protests.

"Hey! Can't you hear him!" England says, angry that anyone could refuse his beloved something. Why can't _he_ deny America something he wants?

"Sorry, sir, but he needs this." A doctor says.

England nods and sits down, thinking. _When did it become impossible for him to deny the American something? _Has he really fallen that hard? _Yes. _America is his only weakness. The only thing that makes him feel helpless. He could never have continued doing whatever it was they were doing when America said stop. It was like America had some kind of weird powers or something. Or maybe he had done a love spell? Does America even know how to do a spell? There has to be something. England realizes he's never been so irrational as he is when America's in trouble or pain. He can't go shouting at doctors to stop healing people! And yet, he just did. Because that damn America wanted them to. What was wrong with him? Is this _really_ what love was like? Giving yourself away to someone else?

When had he given himself away? He had realized when he had fallen in love, but had he realized that falling in love meant the person you had fallen for basically owned you, could make you do anything? For god's sake, he was ready to murder people to get America back! To kill himself when he had thought America was dead! Did people _really_ feel like that when they loved someone? No, America had to have done something to him.

England couldn't _possibly_ be willing to do something so stupid of his own free will, right? The most absurd thing about it is that he knows he'd do it all again. He'd do anything for America. The thought makes him a little queasy. America, his former colony. America, who broke away from him and broke his heart in the process. America, who continued to break his heart by dating Spain. America, who was obnoxious and annoying and ate way more than he should. America, whose dream was to have a family with England. America, who had taken so much pain just to protect and England. America, who was more scared for England's life than his own.

They reach the hospital, and the doctors open the door to the ambulance and carefully take America out. England stays close by. He doesn't know what he would do if America was out of his sight at such a critical time.

_**ANOTHER**_** chapter? Gasp! How can this be?! Well, this story is almost over, you see, and so, I want to just ****BAM! ****get 'em all out there for ya! So yeah! Um... I kinda wanted to just sho wyou all the intensity of England's feelings for America... To intense? Oh, well. **_**TAKE MY POLLLLLLLLLL! **_**I'm sorry to be such a whiner and stuff about it, but **_**SERIOUSLY. **_**It's tied between three stories right now and I might have to decide between them! And I put the poll up so I didn't have to! If you've already taken it, **_**THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU! **_**If you haven't, **_**PLEASE DO SO! **_**Gahhhh! I feel like this story is getting kind of stupid! Do you think so? Eh, whatever! I'm going to try and take a lot more time adding detail to my next story! Oh, and if you have **_**ANY **_**suggestions to improve my writing, I would LOVE to hear them! That is all. Bye for now~**


	21. Chapter 21

_March 27, 2012. 3:00 P.M. _

"Eng..." A weak voice calls, and a hand slowly reaches out and tugs England's tie lightly.

England jumps up, slapping the hand away immediately. Then he realizes who it is, and grabs it again. "I'm sorry. Are you feeling better, love?"

"I... Hurt... A lot..."

"I know."

"How... Long...?"

"Only a few days."

"Love... You..."

"I love you too."

Empty blue eyes close.

_March 30, 2012. 2:00 A.M._

"Eng..." He calls.

Immediately, England is kneeling beside his bed. "Love?"

"Bad... Dream..."

"It's okay. I'll protect you from the nightmares." England reaches out and captures America's hands.

"Love... You..."

"I love you too."

_April 3, 2012. 7:00 P.M. _

"It has been a while, da?" The silver-haired man says, kneeling on the floor. Who took the chairs out, anyway?

"Russ...?"

"Da."

"Missed... You..."

"I've missed you, too. I told everyone."

"...Good..."

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Night..."

_April 10, 2012. Midnight. _

He turns onto his side. His first major movement.

_April 14, 2012. 11:00 A.M._

"Good morning." England walks over to the window, "I hope you don't mind I open the curtains?" He pauses for a seond, as if America will wake up just to answer him, then opens the curtains and the window. "The breeze is probably good for you. I can't imagine being cooped up in the hospital..." England pauses, "Well, I guess I can, since I barely leave anymore..." He walks over to America, "Would it kill you just to open your eyes for a little while?"

_April 17, 2012. 4:00 P.M._

"Thanks..."

"Do you need anything?"

He shakes his head.

"I love you."

"I love... You.. Too..."

"I brought you this." England hands him a small teddy bear, turning crimson.

America smiles lightly. "I... Love it..."

Empty blue eyes close.

_April 22, 2012. 1:00 P.M. _

"One month," He says, setting the roses on the table next to the sleeping man, "You've been out for a month." He sits down in the chair next to the bed and takes America's hand in his. "I want you to wake up for more than just a little while..." England places America's palm on his cheek and holds it close. "I miss you..."

_April 26, 2012. 3:00 P.M. _

"Please wake up soon," He mumbles, taking his hand and kissing it, "I miss you so much it hurts. I want you back..." He sighs. "I'm sorry I'm so selfish. You need your rest afterall..."

_May 1, 2012. 1:00 P.M._

"April's gone."

_May 4, 2012. 4:00 P.M._

"He hasn't been doing so well," The blonde says, his blue eyes shining with tears, "He really misses you... He barely leaves this room. Only to get food or come to the meetings... He wants to be there when you open your eyes and they finally open. So, I'm asking you to please open them soon. The only time I've ever seen him this way is right after you broke away from him...

"It's horrible, seeing someone you care about feeling so alone and lost. He really is. He's been lost without you there to drag him into some crazy adventure..." He chuckles, "He brings you flowers a lot, though. The roses look beautiful. I brought you some flowers, too. Irises.

"It's painful seeing you so still. I haven't let Canada come to see you yet, even though he protests. I'm afraid he'll pass out, seeing you so.. so dead-like... I hope you get better, Amerique."

France stands up and walks out.

_May 8, 2012. 2:00 P.M. _

England buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking and salty tears leaking through the spaces in his hands.

Stupid doctors, they don't know anything, anyway! America will be _fine. _There's _no way_ he could never wake up! He'd woken up a few times before! ...At the beginning of the month... But that had to count for something, right? He... He _couldn't _ be saying his goodbyes, like those stupid doctors said. What did they know, anyway? He _would_ wake up. _He had to. _

England shakes, rocking himself back and forth, silent sobs wracking his body.

_May 8, 2012. 1: 50 P.M._

_America grins, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket. "Sword!" He yells. It transforms into a sword. He grins. _

_"Oh hell yes!" He says happily, slamming his sword down on a monster, which instantly dissentegrates, and throwing a rope up to the top of a tower. _

_A blonde head peeks out and catches it, his green eyes glittering._

_"Tie it and swing down!" America yells. _

_The other blonde nods and ties it to the side, then swings his legs over the side of the windowsill and looks down._

_"I-I'm scared!" He calls down. _

_America smiles and sets the sword on the ground, then fits the tip of his brown, lether cowboy boot into the spaces between the bricks, grabs the rope, and climbs. _

_When he reaches the top, he sits down on the windowsill and looks over. "It's really great to see you." He says, taking England's face in his hands and kissing the shorter man's forehead. _

_"I've really missed you, ever since..." England trails off._

_"Me too. I wish I wasn't so far gone for so long..."_

_"So... Are we going to get down? We have to hurry before Spain gets back..." _

_"Of course." America smiles and plants his toe back in the brick, grabs the rope, and stands, seemingly in midair. "Just wrap your arms around my nack, alright?" He says. _

_England looks at the small gap between them._

_"It's okay, Iggy. I'd never let you fall." America reassures him. _

_"I already have." England leans forward and wraps his arms around America's neck. _

_And suddenly, England starts sobbing. _

_"England?" America's voice suddenly sounds weak. He feels himself being pulled out of the dream..._

**Short chapter, I know. Sorry! :( Anyhoo, take my poll if you haven't already! It was tied between three and now it's tied by two so thank you! :D Bye~**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey guys! So, I closed my poll because it was tied between three and I didn't want any more ties, so... SORRY IF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A STORY CHAPTER! I will decided which story out of the three to write later! Bye~**

**OH! And THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE AMAZING AND THOUGHTFUL REVIEWS! **


	23. Chapter 23

_May 8, 2012. 2:05 P.M._

He awakens. Draws in a deep breath and looks curiously around. Someone's crying. He glances over at the corner, where England sits, his face buried in his silky hair, his shoulders shaking. He cautiously pushes himself out of the bed, pulling random tubes from his arms as he does so. England is _sobbing. _He finds his legs hold his weight well, and walks to England silently. He sits down next to the Brit and wraps his arms around the smaller nation, pulling him closer.

Instantly, the crying stops.

_It can't be. _England thinks, blinking. He breathes in his farmiliar scent. _It can't be. _He leans into the farmiliar warmth his arms provide. _It can't be. _He pushes back a little bit and looks up.

"Is it really you?" England whispers.

"It's really me." He says back.

"_America." _England says, taking the American's face in his hands. "_America."_ He kisses his nose. _"America!" _He cries, burying his face in America's chest.

"How long?" America mumbles.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now." England says, his voice muffled.

"How long?" America asks again.

"About a month..."

"Oh, England.._. I'm so sorry_." The American whispers, resting his head on the Brits.

"You shouldn't be. It was my fault. If i would have known that stupid book was the reson for all of this, I would have burned it right away."

"You still can." America suggests.

"I already have."

"Thank you."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Iggy."

"I love it when you call me that." England smiles.

"Oh? What happened to hating it when I said that?"

"Everything you say is precious. You're precious. I'll never not appreciate anything you say again." England says.

"Want to go on a date sometime?" America asks suddenly.

"Have we even been on a date before?"

"Nope."

"Hmmm..."

"So, want to go on our _first _date?"

"God, no. Why would I want to go on a date with _you_?"

"Wh-What?!" America says, pulling back with wide eyes.

"I'm kidding. Glad to know that you're so upset about it, though."

"Jerk. I'll slip back into a coma!" America teases.

"Don't you dare."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" America says, "So... Weak..." He grins.

"I'll kiss you awake." England says back.

"I look forward to it."

America closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep. England leans over and kisses him, holding tight. He'll never let America go, ever again.

The End

**Hiya! Well, it's ALMOST over! I'm going to do one (or two) more chapters as an epilouge. (Hint hint, wedding and possibly proposal!) Onto the subject of my poll! So, if you've checked recently, you'd know I've closed it, and that's it's tied between "I know CPR!," Waiting For You," and "The Adventures of Two Awesome Dorks." Right now I'm deciding between I know CPR! and Waiting For You... HeHe! I really hope you liked my sucky sort-of ending. :3**


	24. Chapter 24

Sunlight floods in through the giant windows of the white chapel, and the two pen windows at the top blow a gentle breeze that ruffles America's beautiful, golden hair. His blue eyes sparkle with delight as Austria's soft piano playing echoes through the hallway, and he reaches up with shaking hands and straightens his tie. The giant white doors at the end of the hall open, and there stands England, blushing crimson, holding a bundle of roses in his hands-which are shaking more than America's. Every head turns to watch as he walks down, and England tries not to just run to the front of the hall and kiss America, who looks extremely handsome in his black tux.

Seychelles and Monaco (France's contribution to the wedding) walk behind him and throw rose petals, which sway delicately in the breeze before landing silently onto the white carpet in the hall. And, behind them, Sealand walks, holding a red, velvet pillow on which two sparkling rings sit, embedded in the plush cushion. Four little yellow birds fly high above and drop white rose petals into the crowd. (Prussia's contribution to the wedding.)

The music stops, and England is standing across from America, who reaches out and removes a thin, white veil from the front of England's face. America smiles, and so does England.

"Ve~" Italy smiles, "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of these two lovely men in holy matrimony." Italy starts to ramble on about more holy things.

England taps his foot impatiently and whispers, "Just get to the vows, please."

Italy blinks, "Ve~ Of course. Arthur Kirkland," Italy turns to England, "Do you take Alfred to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness in health, 'till death do you part?"

"I do." England says.

The Italian turns to America, "And do you, Alfred Foster Jones, take Arthur to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, 'till death do you part?"

"I do." America replies with a grin.

"I now pronounce you husband and husband. You make now kiss you lover, ve~"

England reaches and grabs the collar of America's collar, yanking him towards himself and crushing their lips together. When they pull apart, America looks back at a beaming Russia, (his best man) a smiling Canada, (his second best man) and Japan, (his third best man, "'Cuz they're all AWESOME!", in America's words.) The entire chapel breaks into applause, hats are thrown, and tears are shed.

England looks back at his three best men, France, Scotland, and China, with a delighted smile, his cheeks still pink.

"So, you wanna be Arthur Jones?" America asks.

"We've been over this, America! We're keeping our names!" England says with a smile.

"Right, right, I always forget." America pauses, "So, wanna be Arthur Jones _now_?"

"America!"

"I love you."

"I love you too." America kisses England again, and both Hungary and Japan squeal and whip out their camera's, shoving aside other people to get to the front and take pictures, both with nosebleeds they furiously stop before it ruins their nice clothes.

And then waiters are wheeling out carts of (edible) scones, hamburgers, mini cakes, tea, soda, wine, waffles, syrup, tacos, cod, french fries, mashed potatoes, cream pie, apple pie, and tuna, along with a giant, intricate wedding cake in blue and red.

Everyone walks over to the food, patting both America and England on the back with warm smiles. America grabs England's hand and pulls him into the hallway.

"America?" England says curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"I just wanted to give this to you. Again." America says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver necklace on a chain.

England gasps and holds out his hand. "You kept it all this time?"

"'Course I did. I had it all fixed up because it got really muddy and the chain was broke..."

"It's broken, not broke." England corrects the American in a superior tone.

"I'll take this back!" America jokes.

"Wait! Don't!" England says.

"Kidding, only kidding." America says, walking behind England and placing the chain around his neck.

They then walk back into the crowd hand in hand, and each pick up a plate. America quickly puts a scone on England's plate.

"_This_ is a scone. _Not_ what you make." He says.

"Hey! My scones are delicious!" England protests.

America laughs, "Yeah, _right_, England."

England smiles and pushes himself up on his tiptoes, then kisses the American's cheek.

* * *

_"Are you ready?" She asks. _

_The blonde nods and steps forward, reaches out, and tucks a loose strand of her curly brown hair behind her ear. She turns slightly pink. As he pulls away, she reaches out and captures his hand in hers. A tear of joy escapes her eye, and he wipes it away. _

_"Are _you_ ready?" He asks. _

_She nods, "I'm so proud of you for finding someone you care about so much." _

_"It sure took me a long time." He smiles lightly. _

_She leans in and hugs him tightly. He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her tightly, burying his face in her chocolate hair. _

_After about ten minutes of this, she speaks. "It's time to let me go." _

_"Okay." He says reluctantly. He pulls away, but doesn't let go of her hand. _

_"You're still holding my hand." She says, smiling._

_"I-I know." He says back._

_"Go ahead." She says. _

_He lets go of her hand, and immediately there is a giant gust of wind. The bottom of her dress dissipates. __She smiles as more of herself disappears with each gust of the wind, blowing her farther and farther away from the blonde in front of him. Soon, her entire body is gone. There's a small clatter as something metal hits a rock on the ground. He bends over and picks it up with a sad smile. An engagement ring. One he had given her only the night before she had died. After that, his only way of seeing her became his dreams. _

_"Goodbye, Abigail." He says, turning around and walking off into the high, green grasses. _

America opens his eyes and looks down at his hand, where a gold ring sits. He sets it on his bedside table, turns on his side, and curls up next to England, who opens his eyes slightly.

"America?" England mumbles.

"Will you always protect me?" America asks.

"Of course I will."

"G'night." America sighs.

"Goodnight, America."


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello, everyone!** **'Tis me, just announcing I'm going to start another UKUS story! If you took my poll, you'd know it's called ****_'Waiting For You_****.' The brief summary is that England is an angel who had died tragically, right after he realized his feelings for America. Now another nation is making a move on America, and England pleads with the higher angels for a chance to be a human again. They give him two months as a human, and he has to make America fall in love with him. If he can't, he has to be an angel, stuck watching America forever. **

**So, if you enjoyed this story, then I think you'll like the new one! **

**Bye~ **


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